When winds at night on windows roar wax runs out dies candle's flame you would hear a knock upon door a familiar voice calling your name.
Don't respond nor open the eyes the voice is keen over winds' howl grows it louder its pitches rise scaring even the brave barn owl.
Pull the blanket up your head you are safe so long you hide lie dead quiet not move on bed with mom asleep by your side.
Between the pause your fears mount if is a chance to be found out one two three the calls you count but count it right leave no doubt.
Three times the voice would call your name for it has no power to do any more but move onto where dies a candle's flame and a child is awake behind closed door.
Inspired from a story I used to hear from mom long long ago when unbelievably I was a child.