The Open Door Read Online Free PDF Page B

cookies. Seven
cookies remained—an entire cookie was missing.
    Upon close inspection of the counter top, he
found more crumbs by where the bag had been sitting all night.
    Fully awake by the sudden and puzzling
surprise, Scott performed a 360-degree sweep of the kitchen to see
if anything else was amiss. The silverware drawer was pulled opened
four inches, and the cupboard where the glasses were kept was
ajar.
    The noises he heard were real. Something or
someone had been in the kitchen all night.
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    March 15, 1999: Snow slammed the door to
Scott’s town-home like a battering ram, as he peered through the
mostly frosted front window, watching the rapid collecting flakes
produced by the blizzard.
    Closing the blinds to shut out as much of the
cold as possible, he lit a fire, and started a batch of heavily
buttered popcorn. A movie and snack by the fire was the best remedy
he could think of for a cold winter night.
    Willie Wonka & the Chocolate Factory was
the chosen film to entertain Scott on the night he found himself
stranded at home. There was virtually no chance of anyone risking
the roads to come over and hang out, even the police were scarce
due to the limited number of four-wheel drive vehicles they
possessed, and the news cautioned people to stay off the roads
unless absolutely necessary.
    The warmth of the fire was enough for Scott
to appreciate the freezing gale that had already managed to cloak
his vehicle in a blanket of white and sparkle.
    Wonka, played by the great Gene Wylder, had
entered the scene in all his insane glory.
    Dark, twisted, and hilarious, Willie Wonka
was one of Scott’s all time favorite characters.
    He had already consumed half the bowl of
popcorn when he decided to take a bathroom break.
    After pausing the VHS player, the only
audible noise left was the pounding storm outside. Curiosity got
the best of Scott, so he approached the window to take a look
outside and see how many more inches had accumulated since last he
looked.
    Flicking open the blinds, he was surprised to
see a woman walking along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the
street. This lady must be crazy! He thought, as he watched
her press against the winds, lifting each foot at least
eighteen-inches off the ground to clear the ever rising drift. Her
clothing, which was light considering the temperatures, was thickly
coated with ice, but the woman drudged on as if she didn’t feel a
thing.
    He closed the blinds once again, and walked
away to use the bathroom. Once finished, Scott plopped down in
front of the fire, and pressed play on the remote. A few moments
later, he paused the movie once again, wondering how the woman
outside was fairing in her epic battle against the blizzard of
‘99.
    Twisting the rod on the shades, he watched
them slowly open, unveiling a dark silhouette. Only the woman
wasn’t walking, she was standing—facing his window.
    Focusing through the stirring sea of glowing
flakes, wondering if the woman needed help, Scott noticed she wore
tattered and very insufficient clothing. Her face was weathered and
dirty, and her straggly hair stuck to her head under a layer of
sleet. She stood perfectly upright, with her hands to her sides,
perfectly still and completely stiff, just staring at him with what
looked to be feelings of disgust and envy under a layer of grease,
dirt, alcohol, and whatever else had collected on her face, now
perfectly preserved thanks to a thin coat of ice.
    An uncomfortable sensation came over him, so
Scott abruptly closed the blinds, and walked away. Do I let her
in — let her use my phone while she gets warm? She’s creepy
and probably crazy, but she’s staring for a reason — she must
want in.
    Back and forth Scott went while pacing the
floor. “Fine! But if I can’t find help, she leaves anyway! No way
is she staying the night!”
    Scott yanked open the door, the woman was
standing only two feet away as she peered through his screen