Scratch
By Flying Sky High
Fluttershy lay in bed.
It was late, and she was fast asleep. All her animal friends were fed, and they were asleep too. Every light in the house was off.
That is, except the night light she kept on near her bed.
And that one only lasted until the cold palm of a hand, yes, a hand, made contact with her window. The window fogged up around it, and when the hand quickly pulled away, the fog wisped away with it, like smoke.
The room was dark.
It was silent.
...all silent but a small tapping on the window.
Tap... Tap... Tap... scraaaatch...
A single finger tapped its nail on the window three times, then scraped it across the glass. A long, rough mark was left on the surface.
Then another.
And another.
Fluttershy awoke, suddenly, to this tapping, and looked at the window.
She caught a glimpse of the chalk white, gnarled finger as it slid, slowly, away from the window.
She gasped, and shivered.
A long chill ran down her spine.
Then, the window opened, just a crack. A chilling wind flooded through the room.
She wanted to close it.
But the hand might find her.
She fell back into a troubled sleep, as the cold breeze drifted around her house.
And as she did so, a hand crawled up to the window.
Tap... Tap... Tap... scraaaatch...