“Please!” he begged, feverishly jiggling the door handle, “I’m hurt bad, please help me!”
He looked through the peephole to find his father on the porch, his clothes soaked from the rain. He looked terrified, clutching his wounded side as he struggled to breathe.
He began beating against the door, “David! David, please help me!”
The boy stood there, his heart racing, “My dad passed in ‘03. I don’t know what you are, but you need to leave.”
Immediately, the man stopped. His expression soured, contorting his face into a deep rage. With that, he staggered back into the woods.
About the Creator
A. González
I am a 24 y/o person from a small town in Oklahoma.
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More stories from A. González and writers in Fiction and other communities.
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