It’s two forty-seven in the morning. For most, this is the dead of night, a time when the world is wrapped in its deepest, most profound sleep. But for some, it is the hour of awakening. The digital clock on the nightstand glows, an unblinking red eye in the shadows. This is the witching hour, a period shrouded in superstition, a time when the veil between our world and the unknown is said to g...
