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The Man at My Door

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I never was really scared of anything, but something made me change my mind. This happened only a week ago, when summer break first started and I was visiting my parents. I'm a single woman, only seventeen years old and I have already moved out. My mom told me as soon as I arrived that there had been some paranormal activity going on. I rolled my eyes and just figured this was more of my mother's nonsense. I wish I had believed her.

It was around 2:30 AM when I decided to get a midnight snack. I was about to open the fridge when someone knocked on my door.

"That's strange," I said to myself, "Why would someone be here so early?"

I walked over to the door and looked out the peep hole, but I saw no one except for a simple cat. I walked back to my room, forgetting about my snack, and quickly fell asleep. The next morning, the strange acts continued. There would be knocking on the door, but, when I would go to open it, no one would be there. It was getting pretty annoying.

A week later, the knocking continued to echo through the living room at the same time - around 2:00 AM. One morning, at 9:00 AM, I heard the same loud knock. Warily, I walked over to the door and opened it to see a man who looked about sixty years old. He had a large grin, a wrinkled face and he looked really happy. Confused, I looked at him and saw a box in his hand.

"What do you need, sir?" I asked, as nicely as I could.

He didn't say a word and stuck out the package. The box had a note on it, saying, "Lucy Moon." I picked up the package and looked at my mother's name. The writing was scratchy and hard to read, but I could still make it out. I pulled out a five and gave it to the man for a tip. Still with his creepy smile, he shook his head and walked away without the tip.

"Mom!" I yelled.

"Yes, Carrie?" came my mother's reply. I walked into her room, set down the package and left.

I got back later that night with a fast-food bag in my hand. I got out of my car and locked the door to see the same old man, with the same smile plastered on his face, knocking on the door. From the back, I could tell how wrinkled and frail he was. His fingers were skin and bones and his blue hat covered his bald head.

"Sir?" I asked from behind him. He turned around and his smile grew bigger when he looked at me.

"Sir, do you need something?" He nodded and pointed at the door. I walked past him and he didn't move his unblinking eyes off of me as I unlocked the door and stepped in.

"I need that package back," he said. I was surprised by how rough, scratchy, and angry his voice sounded; despite his happy look. Speechless, I left him on my door step and walked into my mother's room. She wasn't in her room, making me more confused. I picked up the box and was surprised at how much more weight it had gained.

"I wonder what my mom put in here?" I asked myself. I decided not to look, since I was taught to not to interfere on other people's business. I handed the box to the man who hadn't moved from my door step. He was still smiling and once again refused my tip as he walked away.

I stuck the bag in the fridge and went into my room, laying down and quickly falling asleep. When I woke up the next morning, my mom was still gone and I was beginning to get worried. She was eighty years old and shouldn't have been out that long. I walked up to the door to get into my car and the same man was once again standing there with his creepy grin and his small eyes. He handed me the same package I had gave him yesterday.

"Sir," I said looking at the package, "Isn't this the one I gave you back yesterday?"

He nodded his head and pushed the package towards me. I took it slowly and looked at my name still scribbled in the scratchy pen ink. I looked up to see the old man had already left and was nowhere to be seen. I shut the door and walked to my room as I studied the hand writing. Oddly, it looked slightly like my mom's. I took my knife, cut the tape and opened the box.

When I had opened it, my stomach tuned upside down and my heart beat quickened in terror. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I looked at the box in fright. The inside was stained with blood and intestines, wrapped around chunks of human flash, making it look slightly like a present. I will never know why I did it, but with my shaking hands, I pulled apart the intestines and the chunks of human flash fell, revealing a circle with a note on it. I picked up the note and read it.

"Don't trust the man at the door."

It was still in scratchy hand writing. I moved the note away from my face and I felt sick to my stomach when I saw what the note had been attached to. My mother's head, decapitated from her body and her mouth was wide open as if in a painful scream.

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