There was a frantic knocking at the door. I had heard of trick-or-treaters going out late, but two in the morning? That was ridiculous. Reluctantly standing up from my dark brown leather chair, I dragged my feet across the old hardwood floor to the door. The flooring really needed to be changed, I couldn’t have all of this creaking going on. First, I looked through the peephole, just to be safe. I squinted my eyes in confusion. A cute little boy around the age of eight was peering up at the door. Every few seconds or so, he would look behind him.

“Please, please help me,” he rambled, “I keep seeing this man, I keep seeing him!”
I did not fall for his begging crystal blue eyes as most would. Actually, I had experienced this type of thing before. A kid would knock on the door, asking to call their parents, and they would end up trashing the place. Those pesky rascals! Of course, their tricks were probably devised by their older siblings that gave them orders and were treated as superiors. However, I pondered whether or not to let the tiny guy inside anyway.
“I hear him getting closer!” The boy’s voice cracked as tears formed in his frantic eyes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow glance toward my porch from the thick bushes only a few feet away. I nodded. As I unlocked and opened the door, the lad scurried in, relief on his face. I motioned toward the living room, straight down the hall from the entrance. He wandered towards a leather sofa. I turned around and locked eyes with the figure for a split second before closing the door.
“Th-thank you so so much for saving me,” the boy blurted out, “I thought that… that I was going to die!”
I chuckled. “I am just glad I got to save you in time. Can I get you a snack? I have some pretzel sticks.”
“Yes, please, I love pretzel sticks!. Thank you, miss! Can I call my mom, too? I got lost and I think she might still be awake and worried about me.”
“Sure thing! I will be right back with those pretzels.”
My petite shoes clicked against the laminated tile of the kitchen floor. I switched on the Tiffany-style lamp and reached up to open the upper wooden cabinets, snatching a jar of salty pretzel sticks. A few seconds later, I returned to an empty living room. I rolled my eyes. Why did every child have to be so curious about everything and look through my house? It was so annoying. After searching the whole first floor, I was about to climb the stairs when I noticed that the basement door was open. Oh boy.
The basement was recently redone, so its steps didn’t creak. I quickly descended the steps and scanned the cluttered room for the little mischief-maker. It was quite dark, so I flipped on the lights on the wall with the pretty Tiffany fixtures. A short figure was almost completely hidden by one of my shelves crowded with jars.Sighing, I headed toward the kid. He was staring at my collection. I admired the spotless jars.
“Like ‘em?” I motioned toward my trophies and placed my hand on his shoulder. He flinched.
“Umm… what are they?”
I picked up a jar and stared at an ear that was shaped nicely. Fresh parts were always in such great conditions, I could gaze at them all day.
“Why, this just my latest visitor. Gorgeous, right? You can’t help but praise the perfection of their perfectly clear skin.”
The boy gaped at the item I held in my hand. His scream was cut short by my patient friend, the man who followed him. His black glove covered the boy’s mouth, silencing him. I felt the lad’s shiny, soft skin beneath my bare hand. I smiled.
“You’ll do.”
I nodded to my accomplice and he dragged my next prize, with his adorably horrified gaze, into the back room. I turned off the lights on the wall with the beautiful Tiffany fixtures.