The Open Door Read Free Page A

dissipated along with
the evil script.
    Puzzled, and uncertain if he should tell his
father, Scott sat and pondered: How did that end up on my
mirror? The door was locked from the inside. I’m the only one home.
Could it be a joke? Maybe someone had smudged it on the mirror days
before, and it showed after it fogged up?
    But who would think to write that name, and
take the time to write it backwards, perfectly?”
    His mind raced, driving him crazy with
curiosity.
    Scott never did tell his father. Cameron and
he alone held on to the secret.
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    November 2, 1986: Nothing came of the message
found on Scott’s mirror, and after more than a year, he was
confident his life was back to normal.
    While in the basement laundry room folding
clothes, Scott heard a light but methodical scratching noise coming
from the top of the stairs.
    Although it was broad daylight, the basement
was dark as night, with only tiny shards of light speckling in
through the vine covered windows. Scott was unable to see to the
top of the stairs.
    The home was arranged in such a way that the
stairs led from the basement directly up to a door that opened into
the garage. To the left of that door was another door that led to
the kitchen on the main floor of the house.
    As he peered up the stairs unable to make
sense of the noise, Scott flicked on the light located on the
ceiling, directly above the landing. Illuminated by the light, a
pair of bright green eyes looked down at him with intense interest.
His beloved feline, Whiskers was staring with anticipation; it was
his feeding time, and his food dish awaited him on the other side
of the garage door. Whiskers was a large all grey male cat with
exceptionally long whiskers—hence the name.
    Scott grabbed the large bag of chicken and
seafood flavored cat food, and made his way up the stairs.
    Whiskers paced impatiently back and forth,
purring loudly, saliva building up on his course tongue as he
picked up the scent of the food drawing closer to him.
    After unlocking the garage door deadbolt,
Scott nudged it open with his knee while both hands were occupied
with the bag of cat food. He propped the door open with his right
foot while carefully dumping the pungent smelling cat food into
Whiskers’ bowl. The thickly built cat impatiently dove through his
owner’s legs, and into the garage where he could position himself
in front of the bowl, and begin devouring his favorite dried cat
mix.
    Scott closed the door and watched Whiskers
plow through his meal with ravenous pleasure, as if he hadn’t eaten
in days. He couldn’t help but watch with a smile on his face;
Whiskers was actually very entertaining, and had a colorful
personality—especially for a cat.
    Scott closed the garage door, locked the
deadbolt, and made his way down the stairs to resume folding
clothes.
    Now how does this go again? He
thought, while attempting to fold a pair of jeans. Creases
touching, align the legs, lay flat, fold over . . . Ah—that looks
right!
    A noise pierced the still air; Scott again
heard something at the top of the stairs.
    He stopped what he was doing to better hear
the noise. Again, it sounded like scratching.
    “Wow! Whiskers ate that bowl of food fast!”
Scott said to himself, while thinking about how spoiled the cat
was.
    Starting back up the stairs, Scott again
flicked on the light switch. “Whiskers?” He said, as a chill went
up his spine.
    Standing on the first step, unable to move,
Scott stared at the cat with a puzzled look on his face. His mind
went through all the steps he took when feeding Whiskers, and it
didn’t add up. He knew the cat was in the garage when he closed and
locked the door—he was certain of it.
    Bringing his attention back to the pair of
green eyes that stared at him—the cat seemed to be fine—not even
the slightest bit spooked.
    Slowly creeping his way up the stairs, Scott
stood in front of the door. Hesitant to check the lock, he raised
his