They had stayed longer than they expected though and now it was nearing midnight. Even in the middle of summer, it was pitch dark outside.

“Get to bed, Miles,” his mother – Kathi – had told him when they got home.

“What about my lunch for school tomorrow?”

“I’ll sort it.”

“Oh, why can’t I?”

“It’s late.”

“I’ll only be a minute!”

“Alright, fine. Sort yourself your lunch for tomorrow but be snappy about it and then get to bed. I’m going in the shower.”

“Thanks, mum.”

Kathi went off upstairs in the darkness, not bothering to turn any of the lights on as she went (they hadn’t even turned any lights on when they came in so their conversation had been in total darkness). Miles had just finished his first year of secondary school and now he thought he was too old for his mum to make his lunch everyday and he did it himself. Kathi had heard of parents wishing their children wouldn’t grow up, but she didn’t mind it. It was one less thing to do each day, wasn’t it?

Miles walked through the darkness and when he was in the kitchen he clicked on the light. The fridge was full. What to have? He settled on ham after a moment of thinking and made a sandwich, wrapped it in tinfoil and put it in the fridge to keep cool overnight.

Then off went the light and he went back through the house in darkness. It would have been silent at this time on most nights but his mother was having a shower so he could hear the low drone of the ageing unit forcing water out with more and more effort.

Through the living room. Back in the hallway. Still black.

He wished she’d turned the light on.

Miles found the stairs and started climbing. He made a mental note to brag to his friends about his money tomorrow at school and then phone his grandparents to say thanks when he got home. Part of him wondered if Shelly would be impressed. Maybe he could flaunt it and take her out for ice cream or something after school.

Mum would have something to say about that, he thought. I wonder if I could keep it secret?

As he turned his mind back to thinking just of Shelly, he felt something on his bare leg. Something pointy. Something just caressing his skin for a fraction of a second.

Something that had come through the banister?

Miles stopped. His eyes widened just a millimetre or so, and he turned around to stare into the darkness.

Nothing.

Nothing but darkness.

So Miles turned back after a second and climbed the rest of the stairs and went into his bedroom. He clicked on the light and was glad to see it: whatever touched his leg filled his blood with fright.

But he didn’t believe in monsters. That was stupid. Like those stupid Stephen King books his teachers made him read.