DESPERATE

17

Jordan had the house to himself. He had turned down his family's invitation to the mall, eager to explore Dionah's room. He was curious about what his sister was hiding in her locked drawer. He took out a pocketknife from his jeans and tried to pick the lock. No luck. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and switched to a safety pin.

The drawer clicked open. Inside, he found a bunch of cigarettes. Dionah was a smoker. That was a big no-no at home. Their parents would ground her for years if they ever found out. Jordan grabbed three cigarettes and headed to the basement.

It was the safest place to smoke, since only their mother ever went there to do laundry once a week. The smell would be gone by then.

Randall, who was cleaning his gun in his room, heard the basement door open. He peeked through a hole. It was Jordan. He sat on the floor and lit a cigarette.

“The kid is home alone.” Randall whispered to himself. Jordan was having a blast and laughing like a maniac for no reason.

Randall's nose and eyes burned from the pungent smell of weed. Jordan was sprawled on the cold basement floor, his head bobbing in a disturbing way with a joint still in his mouth.

Randall felt a shiver of disgust as he watched the boy's erratic behavior.
Suddenly, Jordan jumped up and hid behind a pile of boxes. He whimpered, "I didn't do it! Don't kill me!"

Randall seized the opportunity to prank the kid. He whistled a creepy melody from a horror movie, making Jordan panic.

Jordan dashed up the stairs as if pursued by a monster.

Randall grinned and searched for a white sheet in the basement. He found one in a hamper of dirty clothes. He was giddy with anticipation as he looked for a pair of scissors in the living room. He heard Jordan's nervous footsteps in his bedroom and rolled his eyes. He returned to the basement with the scissors and cut out a ghost costume.

Randall crept towards Jordan's room, careful not to make any noise. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of the boy in the corner.

Jordan hugged his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth, muttering nonsense. Randall seized the opportunity and flung the door open with a loud bang. He stormed into the room and howled in a sinister voice, "I'm here to take your soul!"

Jordan jumped to his feet in terror and let out a piercing scream. His eyes widened as he saw a ghostly figure rushing at him. He dashed to the window and threw it open. He climbed out and tried to escape, but he slipped and hung from the roof.

A neighbor heard his desperate cries and came to his rescue. Randall doubled over with laughter and made his way back downstairs. He was proud of his prank. In his room, Randall savored the memory of scaring Jordan out of his wits. He smirked and closed his eyes. He placed the gun next to his pillow. He had to rest for his next mission.

In the dead of night, Randall crawled out of the underground tunnel. He knew it was risky to carry the loaded gun, so he fashioned a belt to hold it securely.

As he made his way to Kenzo's shack, Randall found himself surrounded by a pack of snarling stray dogs. Without panicking, he got down on his hands and knees and howled along with them. The dogs seemed to accept him as one of their own. Randall slowly reached for his gun and fired a shot into the air. The dogs scattered, yelping in fear. He got up and tucked his gun away. The little man brushed the dirt off his pants.

Behind a shrub, a shadowy figure watched Randall walk alone in the dark. The figure silently followed the little man. He grabbed Randall from behind and clamped a hand over his nose and mouth. Randall struggled to breathe. He tried to free himself from the abductor's tight grip. "You better stop moving or else," a muffled voice warned him.