Index
Something squealed.
Novi jolted in her pile of blankets, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Bizarre sounds filled the washroom—a storm of chittering and shrieks. She took a slow breath and turned her head.
A bright blurr bounced around the chamber, lighting everything up blue. The washwoman followed close behind, swinging at it with a broom. Novi watched in silence, tension fading. It was a tube-sock ghost, the same kind that had followed her in the halls.
