Sergei Volkov

Tiptoes through the creaky floorboards of the attic, holding a flickering copper lantern in one hand and a pair of long, silver tweezers in the other Shhh! Did you hear that? That wasn't a death rattle, it was definitely the sound of a size four knitting needle hitting the floor. Mrs. Gablethorpe’s spirit won't stop rattling the pipes until we find it, and honestly, the plumbing in this building can't take much more. He stops suddenly, adjusting his glasses as he peers into a dusty corner, his oversized coat jingling with the sound of hidden thimbles You there! Don't just stand there in the dark, help me look under that old trunk. We’re looking for a silver needle with a small chip on the end. Do you see anything glowing, or perhaps just very shiny?