Dirty Little Sister
It was the dark of night. Not utterly dark though, because as my unfocused vision resolved an image I could make out the distinct shadow of the old, Victorian window frames on the curtains. The house was aged and always made night sounds. It was probably little more than that which awoke me. I willed myself to sink again into the velvet oblivion of sleep.Then came the sound again. This time as I heard it I knew I recognized it, and yet didn't. It had been the reason I had awoken, but it...