Under the Table

It was around eight in the evening, and the house was drowned in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft clinking of spoons against plates. Sami sat at the head of the table eating quietly, while his wife, Mariam, looked distracted, staring sometimes into space and sometimes toward the window as if waiting for something unknown.

For days, everything in the house had changed.

Small strange things kept happening…
The front door would open by itself in the middle of the night, kitchen utensils would move from their places, and faint footsteps could be heard whenever the lights went out.

At first, Mariam thought it was just stress and exhaustion, but things became terrifying when she started finding footprints(s)on the floor every morning, even though all the doors were locked.

Sami kept telling her:

“You’re just nervous… the house is old. Those sounds are normal.”

But Mariam wasn’t convinced.
She felt like someone was watching her.

That night, she tried to ignore her fear and sat down for dinner.
She placed the food in front of her husband and tried to convince herself that everything was fine.

Then suddenly…

She felt something touch her foot beneath the table.

Her whole body froze.

At first, she thought it was the stray cat that sometimes sneaked in through the back door, but then she remembered the door was locked.

Slowly, she looked at Sami.
He was focused on eating as if nothing had happened.

Then the touch came again—stronger this time.

Mariam gasped and quickly pulled her feet back.

“Sami… did you touch me?”

He looked up in confusion.

“No… what’s wrong?”