The Last Light in the House
When the storm hit, it took the whole town offline.
No power.
No phones.
No lights.
Thirteen-year-old Noah sat by the window with a flashlight clutched tight in his hand.
Outside, the wind howled. Rain slammed against the glass.
But it wasn’t the storm that scared him.
It was what came with the darkness.
His parents lit candles.
His little sister, Bree, fell asleep on the couch with a teddy bear.
Noah stayed awake.
Because the night before… the neighbor kid had gone missing.
Just vanished.
They said it was the river.
But Noah had heard the scream.
And he’d seen something.
A shape.
Tall. Thin. Covered in shadows.
Standing at the edge of the yard.
Watching.
Only visible when the lightning struck.
Gone when the flash ended.
Now, in the storm, the candles flickered.
One by one, they went out.
First in the kitchen.
Then the hallway.
Then the bathroom.
His flashlight dimmed.
Noah tapped it.
“Come on…”
It blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then—darkness.
He heard something moving upstairs.
But everyone was downstairs.
He whispered to his mom.
She froze.
They listened.
Thump.
Thump.
Draaaag.
Heavy steps across the floor above them.
Then… creaking stairs.
Coming down.
His dad grabbed a candle.
Held it toward the staircase.
Nothing.
But as the flame flickered… it bent.
Toward the hallway.
Something was near.
Something cold.
Then the backup generator kicked on.
The living room lamp buzzed.
A soft glow returned.
And the footsteps stopped.
Noah didn’t sleep.
He stayed by the lamp all night.
At 6:00 a.m., the power cut again.
The lamp died.
And he saw it.
Just outside the window.
Its face pale. Eyes sunken.
And across its chest…
a string of burned-out light bulbs.
They moved the next day.
But Noah never forgot.
Now, he sleeps with a flashlight under his pillow.
Keeps three night lights in his room.
And a solar lantern by his bed.
Because he knows…
If every light goes out—
It comes back.
And this time…
It might drag someone with it.