I hear a single thunk from the attic. It echoed in the pin-drop silence. It was not a good sound to hear when you are camping by yourself in a distant cabin. After ten minutes I shook my head uneasily, berating myself for watching too many horror movies wherein the characters get mauled by disembodied thunks. Slowly I peeled away the clingy cover of cowardice and crept up the stairs. Panting hysterically I fell back down. White bloody fingers were sticking out from underneath the attic door. "This is so friggin' cliche!" I screamed because I could. Trying to come up with ideas for my book I had taken a holiday to a cabin in the middle of the woods, so no one could complain if I burned the place down. In the silence that followed, there came a thunk from the attic. And I laughed hysterically, choking as I crazily rolled across the floor laughing like a lunatic.