There was only one rule: don't open the door. Especially on cold autumn nights like this, that one rule was king. I stood at the front door, looking out as I sipped my evening juice box.
"Hey, son! Don't open that!" My father yelled to me from the darkened living room. His silhouette in his recliner was backlit by the football game on the TV. "We're not heating the outdoors! You want to pay the bills? Get your arse over here! You hear me?"
I sighed as I looked again out the window in the front door, sipping my juice thoughtfully. I watched something in the shape of my father plead and pound against the wood.
"Junior, please! Let me in! They're already inside!"
I turned to look into the living room and then back at the door. It was crying.
"What did I tell you? Don't open that door! Do I have to come over there?" Pa yelled from his chair.
"Don't listen to it! Please! Let me in! Junior!"
I snorted my juice. "Nice try, Mister Demon. I ain't falling for it."
The thing continued to pound on the door as I turned to go into the living room.
"Coming, Pa. Is it me or is it a little cold in here?"
I reached in for the light switch.
About the Creator
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters

Comments (2)
well done
Whoa!!!! Maybe Pa isn't really Pa, Eh? Nice entry, Ian. I like your creative mind.