The.uninvited

But you do not owe hospitality to a haunting.

But here is the secret I learned:

There is a specific kind of cold that has nothing to do with winter. the.uninvited

For me, it was the rocking chair.

Draw the line. Speak the boundary. Let the silence that follows be the loudest thing in the room. But you do not owe hospitality to a haunting

You don’t have to fight it. You don’t have to perform an exorcism. You just have to stop pretending it has a right to your table.

It doesn’t seep in through a cracked window or a drafty attic. This cold crawls up the back of your neck while you’re standing in a room that should be warm. It’s the cold that arrives with someone—except no one has opened the door. Draw the line

I live alone. I have no pets. I do not own a rocking chair. Yet, at 3:17 AM last Thursday, I heard the rhythmic creak... creak... creak from the corner of my spare bedroom. A room I had locked.

The air popped. Like a pressure change in an airplane.

When I opened the door, the chair was still. The air was 72 degrees. But my breath fogged in front of my face.