He glared at the lamp on the nightstand.
The realtor warned him the other day about the wiring. These cookie-cutter houses sprang up by the dozens in the 70s, when the owner of the copper mine decided it was time to expand. Inspections rushed about as much as development, and whoever slapped it together never bothered to check the electrical.
Every fifteen minutes, from midnight until six, the lights went out. It didn't affect the heavy stuff that drew a lot of power, but it did frustrate his bedtime reading.
The clock read 12:30AM. He looked back up, just in time to see the yellowed hand reach down from the lampshade and wrap around the chain.
*click*
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