68-Into His Basement

Madeline:

I asked the driver to drop me off at the address.

And I began to realize it was much farther from the usual pack houses, all the way near the border of the pack.

There stood a lonely house surrounded by dying trees and overgrown grass.

Even as I stepped onto the front porch, the floorboards creaked beneath my feet.

I knocked gently on the door, then looked around in confusion, growing impatient.

“Come in,” came a voice from inside.

It was old and shaky, yet it sounded as if he already knew I was coming, because he didn’t ask who I was, he simply invited me in.

As I was about to step inside, the voice continued, “Do you see the groceries outside? Bring them in when you come.”

My hand was on the doorknob when the request came.

I looked around for the groceries and, sure enough, found several bags piled near a large vase.

I picked them up, turned the doorknob, and stepped into the small, vintage-style house.

Right at the entrance, a staircase led to the upper floor, and beneath