"See no evil. Speak no evil. Listen carefully."
A family akin to a modern Adams' Family moves into the derelict house across the street from Kota. Intrigued by the beautiful doll-like daughter, he and Nathan attempt to befriend her while trying to u...
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In the empty house full of empty people, there stood a deceptively empty door...
• A maniacal laugh comes from the shadows of Mr. and Mrs. Willacy's back yard. Both tremble inside their dining room with Mrs. Willacy frantically grasping the back of her husband's robe. The couple well into their years have far surpassed any youthful desire for excitement, looking forward to their timely and routine night full of nothing so jolting as what awoke them so late in their slumber.
Metal piercing dirt eerily tempts them to look. Mr. Willacy uses the barrel of his rifle to nudge the curtains aside that hung over the glass doors. His short and plump wife trembling into his side as she leans with him to peer out.
An almost skeletal figure is hunching over the grass in their backyard. Only reason alone let Mr. Willacy brush aside the demonic appearance of the man, rationalizing that the dark is simply playing tricks on his eyes. However, even with a clear mind sure of the reality, it didn't impede what his eyes want to see.
Lanky and skeletal, with a long mop of disarrayed black hair, the man cackles while using a shovel to dig a hole in their backyard. A deep identical one right beside it. He looks more creature than man, especially as his teeth seem to glow while the rest of him remains a silhouetted shadow. Those teeth are sharp razors, shark like and gleaming. His eyes occasionally make an appearance as his hair sways with his overexcited movements, the irises quivering in insane glee.
"Opal, go call the police.", he murmurs to his trembling wife, not taking his eyes off this mad man whose long disjointed fingers remind him of ghoulish spiders, claws of Death.
"He's coming!", the man cackles. "Daddy's coming to play!", he sings in giddiness, his voice lowering in hoarse rapture with every word sung until he sounded like a sleazy pervert peering into a young girl's room.
The man freezes, arms hanging limp in front of him as his back hunches in almost an animalistic fashion. Slowly his head turns to look right into Mr. Willacy's eyes.
Mr. Willacy took a trembling step back as the man's gleaming pointed teeth twitch into a grin," He's gonna flay her. He's gonna take her ugly old skin."
Mr. Willacy falls back into his dining table, trembling in horror. His arms quiver anxiously as he brings up his rifle and points it at the glass where the curtain now hides him from view.
Faintly he can hear sirens speeding towards them. A abrupt lone knock on the glass causes him to jolt in alarm. His finger tugs the trigger and a bang sounds off, hitting the ceiling. Cursing under his breath as sheet rock falls on the floor, he almost misses the screeching of something sharp digging into the glass door.
