My grandma's house had high ceilings, and a peaked roof. It was cool there in the summer. I remember sleeping, squashed between my cousins at noontime during summers for our siesta, and I would just stare at the blank ceiling. In daylight, it was harmless. But at night, it was a different story.

A house, especially an old one, makes noise at night. My grandma's house was no exception. Though, there was one sound that filled me with sheer terror. I didn't know what made it, but it sounded like clickety-clakety-clack. And it came from above that ceiling.

I could barely sleep at night. Images of cartoon skeletons dancing with jazz hands filled my head at the thought of those sounds. Other times, it reminded me of women playing castanets. Until I...