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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2244993
What lies behind a suburban house's front door? I dare you to take a peek...
Forgetfulness Kills.
By Stephen A Abell - Tuesday 23rd February 2021

Number Of Words - 300

"I forgot to lock the door!"

"I ain't turning 'round, Alice."

"But the door's unlocked!"

"Why do you consistently do this?" Exasperated, he shook his head. "Every time we go anyplace, you keep forgettin' somethin'. The tap's still running. The oven's on."

"Quit raggin' on me," she hissed, "I can't help worryin'."

"Why can't you at least tell me all this before we've gone more than halfway to where we're goin'? I shell out more for gas than anything else. The last time we filled up, I noticed our piccies behind the counter. Customer Of The Decade award."

"You know what they say about sarcasm, Allan(?)"

"Don't make it any less true, does it?"

"So, you're not turnin' round?"

"Why should I? Ain't our house, and our work's done. For free, no less. The family should be thankful we were around."

"Well, you should because it ain't our house," truth punctuated her words, "and you wouldn't want any tradesmen at our home to leave without securing the door. How'd you feel to come home and discover everything gone?" She knew the debate was hers when she felt the car decelerate and heard the indicator click-click.

"Why are you always right?"

Two-hours later the car pulled to the curb outside the three-story. It was a charming house in a great neighbourhood. The door stood ajar.


Exiting the car, screams slashed the summer air.

"Grab the bible, cross, and holy water, Alice. Our work's not done."

Starting up the path, silence descended on the home. They halted and listened. Unholy sounds assailed their ears. Snapping bone, wet thuds, scratching movement, crunching mastications.

A blackened claw crossed the threshold, blood dripping from the talons. Orange eyes regarded them from the darkness.

"Told you I forgot to lock the door."

The creature pounced.

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