The Cursed Blood

Creaking and popping like twigs being snapped and bent.” I shivered at this.
“Something lifted the blanket just enough to return her stuffed rabbit to her with a blackened claw like hand, pat her on the head, and creaked, clicked, and clacked back out the door, closing it behind itself as it went.” White Owl finished and I sat there staring at him, not sure if I wanted to believe him or not trying to reign in on my heart thundering away as Gramps shook his head and chuckled.
“Did you try to catch it?” My hushed voice cracked as I spoke, and I remember I felt a shiver of unease as I stared at the old Master, hoping for some kind of happy ending.
“Of course,” White Owl assured. “But we never did, and every year more heads are taken. On a misty night, like tonight it just so happens.” Just then something spattered several times against the window, and my heart about leapt out of my chest and Gramps leapt from his chair cursing. White Owl grunted. I tried to regain control of my breathing and Gramps flew out the door in a rage screaming very imaginative obscenities at the prankster egging his house.