Horrible

It was a cold, moonless night, and Sarah sat alone in the bungalow, the silence of the house stretching around her. Her husband, Aaron, had gone out of town for work, leaving her with their one-year-old baby, Luke. The dim light of a single lamp flickered softly in the corner, casting long shadows across the walls. As the hours passed, the baby’s cries grew louder, more desperate. She rushed to the nursery, her heart racing, to find Luke tossing in his crib, his tiny fists clenched in fear. She lifted him into her arms, trying to soothe him with gentle whispers, but his cries only intensified. Suddenly, the sound of a guitar broke the stillness of the night. It was faint at first, a soft, haunting melody drifting in from the backyard. Sarah froze, the hairs on her neck standing up. It was strange—she hadn't heard anyone come onto the property. She quickly checked the windows, but there was no sign of movement outside.  "Who would be playing the guitar at this hour?...