They’re at it again, walking the streets knocking on doors and asking to be let in, doe-eyed and pig-tailed. The grannies and gramps, wistful memories of tots on tykes and girls with dolls, fall victim the most.
Separated by a measly rowhouse wall, I can hear my blue hen neighbor, Dolores, weep as they make their way closer.
“Keeps them doors locked, love!”
They knock on her door. An innocent voice begs to be let in, and I hear the click of a door unlocking. The rabid children giggle as they eat poor Dolores.
Minutes later, I hear a knock.
Kris Kinsella is an emerging writer who lives outside of Gettysburg, PA surrounded by far too many animals. A lifelong lover of horror fiction & film, you can find him on Twitter @kinsellakristof and his website is https://kriskinsella.com.
Maura Yzmore 