The Open Door by Brian Brahm

envisioned himself sitting up with the book. He was close
to the level where the horse’s head first entered, and began
watching him. The perspective sent chills down Scott’s spine, as he
realized how vulnerable he was, seventeen years prior.
    Had his father not entered when he did, who
knows what might have happened?
    Wanting to conclude the search, they
continued, quickly peaking in Scott’s father’s room.
    “Empty. Now let’s move along.”
    “Why the rush? Don’t you want to look
around?” Maybe see if your dad left anything behind?”
    “Maybe later. I’m going to check out the
basement—make sure there are no vagrants hiding out down
there.”
    Peering down into the basement from the top
of the staircase, Scott wondered if Whiskers would hear him, and
come out of hiding for more of his favorite dried cat food.
    The sun had set, and the moon’s
light—extinguished by dark thick clouds—lent little light to the
already murky basement.
    Grabbing a flashlight, Scott made his way
down the stairs, and into the abyss. Matching step for step, one
inch behind Scott, Cody followed, breathing heavily with his eyes
stretched wide open.
    The beam from the flashlight cut through the
black. They could only see what the flashlight exposed, making the
search tense and lengthy. First they cleared the living room. The
light rolled over the bricks of the fireplace, exposing the
ash-covered interior.
    Black shiny remains of what was once wood
still lay on the cold steel log support.
    “Wait! What’s that?” Cody asked in a startled
tone.
    Moving the beam to the right corner of the
crusted black slab of cement where Cody pointed—Scott could see
what looked like an odd shaped ball. Black as the place it rested,
the object sat motionless. They slowly approached with the light
fixed on it; Cody and Scott were unable to make out what it was
from just a few feet away. Moving in closer, the lifeless ball was
fully illuminated, unearthing its shiny, uneven, dirty black fur.
The light bounced off of something reflective that peered from
within the matted filament. Upon closer inspection, the reflection
came from a glazed over eyeball. Yellow, with a black vertical slit
down the middle, the eye stared back at them.
    “Is, or was that one of your cats?” Cody
stuttered carefully.
    “I don’t think so. I’ve owned many cats, but
Whiskers was the only one alive after I moved, and he had longer
grey colored hair with green eyes.”
    They whipped their heads around
simultaneously as if on swivels. A scratching noise came from atop
the stairwell. Like a row of knitting needles slowly ripping
through a piece of thick fabric, the noise echoed down the
stairs.
    “Probably just an animal in the garage trying
to come in from the cold,” Scott said, unconvinced.
    Cody seemed unable to speak, so Scott nudged
his shoulder, and signaled that he was going to approach the
stairs.
    Cody again followed closely as Scott
carefully planted one foot in front of another, trying not to make
a sound. Pressing his back against the wall while Cody waited
behind, Scott did his best to stay out of sight.
    Waiting to turn the corner, fearing the light
would expose something at the top of the stairs; Scott took one
last deep breath, praying that whatever it was would be on the
other side of the door, in the garage.
    He turned—the beam of light turned with him
as it sliced through the dead air. His eyes focused in on the
landing. Startled, Scott dropped the flashlight. A circle of light
bounced off of the walls and stairs until the flashlight settled at
his feet. The scratching had stopped, and silence fell upon the
house.
    Scott could hear Cody breathing heavily
behind him as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Scott
stood
    frozen in place, waiting to hear footsteps
descend from the top of the stairs.
    Suddenly, the flashlight shot up the stairs
until it reached the landing. Cody had lost patience and grabbed
the light. They both stared at a