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 just couldn't take it any more. I shook my cousin awake. With no lack of grumbles, he sat up, rubbed his eyes and glared malevolently at me. I could only shrug my shoulder, grimace and point up. He looked to where I was pointing. His forehead furrowed. Then they shot up, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

Clickety-clackety-clack.

He took my hand then, and we tiptoed around our other cousins and aunts and uncles all huddled up together on mats on the cement floor. An orchestra of snores. We dared not open the lights. An adult might wake up ask us what we're up to. And it's hard to make them understand things. They're too old.

We reached the door, and sighed in relief when it didn't squeak. Outside, it was dark, save for patches of moonlight on the floor. The den looked so empty now that grandma's casket was gone. My chest felt too small for my heart, and I felt something warm travel down my cheek. Bur there it was again.

Clickety-clackety-clackety-clack!

Elmo stiffened as his hand squeezed mine. It almost hurt. We stayed that way, frozen, straining our ears for any sound. But there was nothing. Not even the call of crickets. His eyes found mine, and we both nodded. In silence, we stalked through the house onto the kitchen. The ceiling was low enough there that we could climb into the counter to reach it.

Elmo helped me get on top of the counter before climbing up himself. Then he felt around for the opening on the ceiling. With eyes now we'll adjusted to the dark, I kept a lookout for anything that would compromise us. Just then, I felt a cool finger brush my cheek. A chill ran down my spine just as a hand covered my mouth to stop me from screaming

"Shut it! You'll get us in trouble!"

Cheeks burning, I followed him up into the darkness that is between ceiling and roof.

It was only now that we realized we didn't have a flashlight. Heated whispers were exchanged only to be cut short.

Clickety-clackety-clackety-clack!

Our eyes tried so hard to pierce that darkness, to see what it hid.

Click.

Sweat ran down my forehead.

Clack.

My mouth was filled with cotton.

Click-click.

Something warm flowed through my eyes.

Click-clack.

Something was coming.

Clack-clack-click-clackety-clack!

Grandma was up on the ceiling.