Round 4

In the kitchen's dim light, Jeane's grip on the brass lamp base tightened as The Force positioned herself near the counter. A faint spark flew from the ceramic ashtray where her flashlight had landed, casting eerie shadows on her face. "The kitchen air is too still," The Force whispered, her voice barely audible over the creaking of the old house.

Jeane's knuckles whitened as she watched the kitchen doorway, the sound of The Force's footsteps growing louder with each deliberate step. "That's the first wrong note—the house shouldn't feel this empty when someone is home," The Force murmured, her eyes fixed on the window over the sink. The woods outside were black and still, no signs of life or approaching headlights.

The Force moved closer to the kitchen, her movements cautious and calculated. Jeane's heart pounded in her chest as she waited for the intruder's next move, her lamp base at the ready. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats. The Force's presence seemed to fill the room, her power and determination a stark contrast to Jeane's fear and desperation.