The Ghost of Christmas Past
Midnight woke him up like a clarion going off right over his head. Steve’s eyes shot open and his breath caught in his chest, and he felt like he might as well have not slept at all. The room was dark save for the vaporous glow of moonshine reflected off the snow outside and suffusing through his window. Not enough to make shadows and not enough to actually see by, it was more the idea of light than light itself. Steve sat up and rubbed his face, breathing in the stench off his hands that no...