It staggered down the hallway, giggling to itself as the rest of the residents desperately tried to pretend they were sleeping. They were less likely to die if they didn't do anything to attract its attention which was easier said than done for the less lucid among them.
Retirement homes are always a mixed lot of folks, some of whom are as chirpy as they were in their fifties, others stare at the walls while their minds replay what little of their past they are able to remember. This one was no different to any other, save for the resident creature they'd been trapped with for thirty five years now, the one who stalked the halls at night and stole life wherever it could.
It all started with a resident who liked to dig, not garden, just dig and dig and dig until either he hit a pipe or had his spade confiscated again. He always managed to break it out and it kept him quietly occupied for the most part so the staff allowed him his little quirk and all was reasonably well.
Until the end of his spade hit something fleshy. Something that dragged him down and spat out his blood-drenched clothes before sprinting into the building and hiding itself away within the walls. It's hunted them ever since but officially there's nothing wrong and the residents are just talking age-induced nonsense when they say they're scared of the night time man.
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