The Knock in the Alley
It was nearly midnight when Arif turned into the narrow alley that led to his house. The rest of the village was silent, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only comes after a long day of rain. The air smelled of damp earth and wet stone, and every step he took caused the mud to squish beneath his sandals. He lifted the small lantern in his hand higher, shielding the flame with his palm. The weak glow trembled, throwing shaky shadows across the mud-plastered walls that lined both sides of the alley. Those shadows stretched and curled in unnatural ways, as if they were alive and watching him.
