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You're listening to a morbid network podcast. As the grandfather clock in the hallway finished chiming midnight, a knock reverberated forcibly

against the street door.

Within the modest home in Evansville, Indiana, everyone was sleeping.

Everyone, that is, but Elizabeth Feast.

She had given birth to her eighth child four days prior, and ever since she'd been feeling poorly. In her feverish illness sleep was not easy to come by.

Her aching body allowed her no reprieve, no momentary relief. Her cold her cold clammy hand trembled as she reached out to touch her husband's arm.

He had been startled awake by the booming knock and at his wife's touch he took hold of her hand

Did you hear that is someone here Thomas asked in his hazy half sleep

Yes someone's at the door, Elizabeth whispered faintly, and they knocked so very hard, who would do that?

After he rubbed his eyes, forcing them open, Thomas sat up to light the oil lamp on the bedside table and then stumbled out of bed.

Stepping softly and quietly as he approached the door.

He cracked it open ever so slightly so he could peek out.

On the other side of the door, the heavy caress of humid air met his skin, but nothing more. The night was empty, only darkness. He opened the door all the

way and stuck his head out to have a look. From out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the flash of long black hair as someone rounded the corner of the building.

But the image was so fleeting that he couldn't be sure.

After closing and locking the door again, he went back to his bedchamber.

Though her body lay limp and listless in bed,

Elizabeth's eyes were wide and bright, questioning filling

them with sudden life.

He simply shook his head in response and said,

...