Becky had all her lights turned on. She had all her doors and windows locked. She started to push the sofa in front of the recliners, and coffee table. She grunted from effort.
Ding dong.
She froze. Not again. Not another. But it might be someone who needs help. She unlocked the front door, and peaked out. There was a boy, looked about 13 or 14, standing there. He was dressed in black, and his dark hair was in his face. He smiled, revealing sharp, pointed teeth.
Becky shrieked, and slammed the door shut. She quickly locked the door, and ran behind the sofa. She tremmbled as she waited. It was out there. She waited, then peaked out the window. No one was there. She sighed in relief.
Becky went up the stairs, and walked to her husband’s steel locker. She opened it, and pulled out a rifle. If they were going to keep coming, then she would be armed and dangerous. This was the worst night of the year.
October 31.