I heard the tapping and my first thought was that I had read "the Raven" one too many times. Then I shook my head and realized that isn't possible. A smile broke my fright for a mere second before I heard the tapping again, and reacted with true undistracted wariness. The window was shaded, but dark shapes moved on the other side. I took a step toward the window, and the tapping was joined by a kind of clicking. I stopped. The tapping and clicking was now joined by a pounding that originated within my own chest. I disgusted myself. And in retaliation, I lunged at the window and snagged back the curtain. Rain dripped down on a bone setting on my window sill. It was not yet bleached white. Instead a dreary gray made it seem a part of the scene which was back dropped by a sky of a similarly dreary gray. Leaving it there I returned to my desk. Some small animal seemed the culprit and my fears sank to nonexistence. But not for long.

For the next several days I avoided going near the window outside. I did not want to go near the bone, and oddly, no creature had moved it from where it rested on the sill. After nearly a week the shame got to me, and I approached the sill with the full intention of removing the bone. But I began to notice that the size of the bone was a bit too large to be that of a small animal. And too small to be that of cattle. In fact it had the distinct likeness to those I had observed in the cemetary...after the priests had exhumed old bodies to make room for new bodies to be interred. A human femur, if my limited knowledge in the subject of biology was to be trusted.