Flakes of snow padded against the glass, claws tapping away impatiently.
The backyard was seamlessly blanketed in thick, white snow, minus the large hoof prints here and there that would soon be disguised by more snow.
The blizzard nearly disguised the red eyes that were treading ever closer to the back doors.
The soft crunch of fresh snow mixed with the sound of heavy, tired breathing.
Black hair fell and littered the effortless white, the only sign that It had been there.
Approaching the French doors, black lips staining the glass and stale breath heating up the door.
The lights dimmed for a few moments before the house turned utterly black.
The television turned to static and buzzed monotonously for two minutes, fifteen seconds.
Two minutes, fifteen seconds.
The metal handle turned slightly to the side, nearly impossible to notice to those paying attention.
The barest creak of the door as it slid open just a crack, just a sliver.
Snowy tracks advancing across the wooden floors, melting and staining the oak.
The clock sounded and awoke the child, the only one to bare witness.
The only one to hear the clack of hoofs right outside the bedroom door.
The only one to feel the hairs on the back of the neck rise as It opened the door.
One minute, fifteen seconds.
Fingers curled into a fist, blood drawn on the shaky palms.
Heavy, rough breathing in the ear.
Claws tracing the hairline, the nape of the neck.
Fifteen seconds.
A piercing scream rung out.
A scream not from the child, no.
A scream from the creature as it transcended into its new body.
Yet as the parents came to check upon their little boy, they found nothing wrong.
All seemed content, but they would never know, they would never spot the difference.
They never did.