Door To Door

As I strolled on to the last few houses I had left, darkness was beginning to set in on the light reminding earth that night was coming soon to take its place. The ladies of the home, the main target for our new line of beauty products, would be starting dinner soon and would be veritably preoccupied. The best time to get the customers attention is during the day, after their husband has left for work and the optional children are away at school. These peak times are ideal as the female customer is typically home alone, probably cleaning the house, working on hobbies, watching their shows on TV or other unimportant tasks that can be easily put on hold. This gives us the propitious time span to sell the items we have with minimal interruptions and maximum attention.

I continued to remind myself of the four P’s of selling: Prompt, Polite, Professional, and Personable. Prompt is being quick to answer questions that the customer may have as well as having zippy and snappy responses to customer comments, concerns, and stories. Give the customer the real apple butter talk when giving a pitch; giving the customer all the great benefits, with the unhighlighted downfalls in between each advantage.

Polite and professional go hand-and-hand as to be professional is also being polite, showing respect towards the person you are talking to, watching for the available body ques, driving the products towards customer concerns and persuading the customer that the product you are selling will help to fix probable issues the customer may be having or just make life easier for them.

Personable can be something over ridden or under ridden by a professional, depending on the customer you are selling to. Most people like to be identified with, make them feel like you know how they feel and you are there to help them and not just trying to get their business. I enjoy using a lot of slang with folks as it makes them feel more at home and gives me a humble appearance.

At the morning meetings, the coaches always remind us that the four P’s is absolutely imperative to keep in mind when you are pitching products to customers. They are seen as essential to door-to-door selling, however, they further remind us to NOT let rejection get in the way of your day.

Before I continued up to the next house I straightened my tie, checked my shirt, adjusted my fedora, and buttoned my coat before adjusting my grip on my attaché case. I have been going door-to-door for several months now and have really gotten the hang of the ends and outs of the trade. I’ve gotten on the stick about being able to become very familiar with the product lines and sell the benefits of the product giving the customer a real razz of their berries.

The next potential victim’s pad is a moderate ranch style home with a driveway that dips down below the house into a garage that sits below a front room with a large window equipped with an aluminum awning. The front door has a walkway that leads to it with a rock filled flower bed and a wooden flower box running from the side of the garage to the start of the walkway. The wooden flower bed has small bushes and is used as a way to rail off the edge of the drop off to the driveway. The home overall fits the period of time with a long white roof and the siding made to look like reddish brown wooden boards.

Everything about the home is cozy and the yard and bushes are trimmed neatly in the front yard. A small stone flower planter has a mixture of daisies, Black-eyed Susans and other mixed in flowers matches the large chimney in the back of the house. I made my way up the concrete path to the front door, passed the flower planter, and on to the small concrete porch landing. Beside the door hung a doorbell which I gently pressed and a faint chime could be heard on the other side of the door that seemed to sweep through the house like a bird that unwittingly made its way through an open window.

I adjusted my stance and felt the soft leather that housed the bowie knife move ever so slightly against my right calf. The dark greaser inside of me swirled around, itching to touch the surface beneath my skin. He hasn’t tasted blood in a long time and the more homes I visit he squirms and fights to be released. I hit the bell and it rings out sweeping through the house like a bird in flight heading south for the upcoming barren winter.

Some movement can be seen faintly beyond the small frosted glass windows that formed a diamond at face level on the door. I smiled slightly, being sure not to overdo it before the customer opened the door but just enough to perform a friendly gesture. I took a deep breath as the door swung inwards and stood the female form I expected to see.

The female resident didn’t sport anything that was out of the ordinary from the typical customer base I’m used to: she carried herself with her shoulders back and stood up right with her hair curled and sprayed. One could tell she took great care to make her hair look naturally curly that day. Her dress is that of a typical housewife attire with a popular floral print full skirt dropping down to her shins and a green button down blouse to match the green in the skirt. Her black pumps have a thick heel to make it easier to travel around the home. Her jewelry is a matching set of pearls and earrings, a typical set common among the broads now and days.

As she leaned against the door, she popped her hip out putting the majority of her weight on her left leg and gazed at me through her heavy eyes. She sported a look as if she was expecting me and wasn’t thrilled for my arrival. Her bright red painted lips frowned with unamused as she gave me a ‘get bent’ look and questioned, “You’re not here to sell me them damn encyclopedias, are you?”

Her question iced me slightly and I conjured a response, “Oh, no ma’am. I’m here to introduce to you--”

“Do I look like a ma’am to you!?” she interrupted.

“You look like a cube baby to me who could use some life easing toiletries.”

“I’m circled,” she explained holding up her hand exposing her wedding band, “not a cube.”

I tried to gather my thoughts before continuing on with my ear bashing, but her demeanor quickly changed when she asked me, “Do you have any of those perfume samples like that of what Avon gives out?”

I smiled and held my briefcase up, tapping it and smiling, “I’ve got lots of samples and try outs.”

She glanced down at the case and back at me with her eyes have drawn shut and the expression on her face reverting back to when she first answered the door, “I suppose you’re going to give me the once over about whatever you’re toting around in the carry-on luggage you got there.”

“I won’t gas you too much my dear. I promise to only sell things earthbound and chili to you!” I excitedly explained.

“Got a deck of luckies on you?” she integrated.

I went to reach inside of my coat pocket on the inside of my jacket to grab out my pack of smokes but before I could get my fingers in the pocket, the customer stepped to the side and motioned for me to come in. I stepped into the living room and eyeballed around to get a feel for the space and try to find things that stand out to me that I could take advantage of making a sale.

The living room is painted with a mint green color and large brick fireplace painted the same color as the mint green walls. A large mirror without a frame hung above the fireplace running the length of the fireplace. A couple of faded red suede lounge easy chairs sat in the corner with a table and lamp in-between them. A cream colored couch sat in front of the long window that overlooked the driveway and the front yard. The same colored cream covered an arm chair that sat adjacent to the couch. A white and gold trim coffee table sits in front of the couch and chair. A white sheer curtain under dark mint green panel hung in front of the window with the panels drawn back allowing the afternoon sun to shine through, illuminating the living room. However, the most peculiar pieces of the room are the stuffed moose and deer that sat on the wall, hanging on either side of the fireplace. They’re both massive in size and almost seemed to dominate the room. They would for sure have stories to tell of how they were killed. They’re eyes filled with almost a sadness deep inside of them as if depression had swept over them for the time that they hung guarding the fireplace.

She walked in behind me as she began to speak, “I’m not sure if you need to stand for your bit but if you don’t feel free to sit.”

She must’ve caught my gawking at the taxidermies animals and inspired, “Beautiful aren’t they?”

I nodded in response without breaking vision of the whole look of the fireplace, admiring the whole centerpiece of the room.

“My husband shot the moose in the Colorado Mountains, just outside of Pine. Massive was he. He stood about 7 feet tall, Tim, even though he is no candy ass of a man, almost shit his pants when he came across that brute. And the deer was shot out in the Appalachian hills of southern Ohio. He too was a massive buck, as you can tell by that 14 point head of his. He had been terrorizing a friend of Tim’s out there. Tearing up the chicken coop, eating up the garden vegetables, causing all sorts of grody. Oh, how he was cranked to have gotten them two.”

She looked over to me with glory in her eyes and a sort of pride filled her, “I stuffed them myself. It’s a hobby of mine when I’m not playing housewife. This old place is full of them!”

I finally broke my concentration and looked over at her with a smile, “They sure are gangbusters!”

The pride and glory left her eyes and went quickly went back to business, saying with a sneer, “As I said, you’re welcome to have a seat.”

I walked over to the chair next to the couch as it was the closest to me and it would allow the client to sit on the couch and have the most room for comfort.

A bar cart sat beside the fireplace and the young lady began to gather bottles and a glass, “Can I offer you a drink?”

Before I could reply, she interrupted me, “Well you don’t expect me to listen to this act sober do ya? After all, the end goal is to make a sale and I’m not going to have the patience to deal with this without a drink and a cigarette. Speaking of which, grab me one of those luckies from your pocket.”

Bossy, I kinda like it and darkness inside swirled when she spoke as if it too enjoyed the way she jawed at me. I knew this one would create a lasting effect on me for months, which is exactly what it has been starving for. Everything in the room screamed weapon, murder, kill. The brick fireplace would be great for blunt force trauma to the head or the glass from the lamp could be smashed across her back, neck and shoulders and the shards used as knives. The bar cart is made of a gold colored metal and shelves are made of glass; a perfect combo to pick her up and slam her down upon.

I stood up from the chair and reached back into my jacket pocket and pulled out the pack of Lucky Strikes I had stowed away for safekeeping, or in situations like this. I gave the pack a few pats to pack the tobacco and then pulled one out and handed it over to her. She put it between her two fingers and gave me a slight smile and a glance. Her ruby lips puckered as she smiled at me and gave me the once over with her glances.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” I apologized and fished for my lighter out of my pants pocket after finally setting my case down, giving my hands and arms a rest from the weight. I pulled the old golden colored Zippo lighter that my father had passed down to me. He bought it a few days after I was born in celebration of his first son. It was during the depression and he was thrilled to have been able to scrape the money together to find one. He later in the 40’s had SON engraved on the casing. He passed it on to me before he died and I never leave the house without it.

The client held the cigarette in her lips and I flipped open the cap creating the iconic clink and slid my finger down the flint wheel igniting the wick. I gingerly lit her cigarette and she subtly pulled back breathing in a deep drag and then releasing it into the living space around us.

She gazed into my eyes as if she was looking into my soul or worse, into the darkness inside of me. She turned and started back towards the bar cart to finish her drink.

“Oh, if you don’t mind, before I start to bash your ears, may I use your lavatory,” I questioned.

Without turning around, she replied, “You can use the bathroom as we don’t have a lavatory here.”

I stood there for a moment waiting for direction to the toilet and then she turned her head slightly and replied to the silence, “It’s back the hall, last door on the left and don’t get smart and roam too far from the path.”

I left my briefcase beside the coffee table in the living room, strolled past the resident who was still working on her drink at the bar cart on my right and the two suede chairs on my left as I crossed the threshold from the living room into a foyer thats main function was to empty off into other portions of the house and a staircase that leads down stairs to presumably the great room and the garage. I continued past the staircase and into the hallway as she directed me.

I stopped for a moment in between the first set of closed doors, one to my left and one to my right, and looked up at some of the pictures that hung on the walls in between the doors in the hallway. The one picture appeared to be a family photo of the client, with whom appeared to be her husband and their four children. As I moved along the hall, more pictures showed the family at different events, sometimes pet animals would be present at other times it would be just the kids or the husband and wife posing for a couple’s photo. The walls also had small animals like birds and squirrels tastefully hung on the walls. Most of them posed with pieces of a branch or twig from a tree. A robin froze in time, building an almost complete nest perched above the second door on the right that didn’t get shut completely. A radio played an old tune from inside the room.

Curiosity over took me and I inched the door open a few inches to peek inside in hopes that I could find a little more information about this client. The bathroom should be really helpful in knowing what the client would be interested in but the house had been mostly quiet and typically the kids and husband would be away for school or work, so I wouldn’t expect anyone to be home other than the broad making her drink. I figured I would be in the clear and that I wouldn’t get caught snooping by other housemates so I pushed the door a little further open. I got my head around the bend of the door and into a dark room, it appeared to be a study of some sort with novels littering the book shelves that covered the walls. A floor lamp sat next to an old rocking chair and in the rocking chair sat someone. I couldn’t make out a body or face as the person held up a newspaper. He had suit pants on and what appeared to be brogue shoes. A large circular rug sat in the middle of the room and on the edge of it by the newspaper readers feet laid curled up an orange cat. The cat oddly enough didn’t move or blink an eye, it just laid knocked out and in sleep’s grip.

I pulled the door back to where I found it as quietly as I possibly could to not disturb the newspaper man and his sleeping cat. I managed to get it back to its place without a creak or squeal and continued down the hall. This woman will have to be spared and the dark would have to wait for another day.

I found my way into the bathroom and shut the door behind me flipping on the light at the same time. A dark cream tile floor crawled from the floor and half way up the walls leaving the rest of the wall to be made of drywall. Again, a mint green took hold of the color scheme in this room, however a bit darker than that in the living room. The bathtub, sink, toilet, and towels all matched the mint green pattern that danced across the tile, while white filled in the rest.

A mirror hung above the sink with little open square storage compartments alongside the mirror with a large door on both sides of the compartments allowing for more storage. I quickly scanned the compartments looking for products that the family uses and getting a feel of their morning and evening bathroom rituals.

A bottle of Listerine mouthwash sat patiently behind the door on the right and a box of cleverly disguised Johnson & Johnson Modess sanitary napkins in a mainly unmarked plain box. Because women like to be modest about their menstruation, Johnson & Johnson devised creative marketing plans to conceal their sanitary napkins in unmarked boxes giving the appearance that it could be anything from stationary items to a box for recipe cards. Women could buy their feminine products and others would be none the wiser.

I also found Stripe toothpaste. I cleverly marketed toothpaste aimed to look like candy when squeezed out of the tube because of the red stripe on a white paste. This may be great for kids, but she may be interested in the Avon’s Smokers Toothpaste that’s great for well what the title suggests.

I continued snooping through the cabinets and found that the man of home still uses shaving cream and a razor. This is great for when you have the time to shave your face before a night out on the town but for a man that is getting ready in the morning for work may happen to wake up a little too late and needs something a little more swift to get the job done. I have the perfect electric shaver set. A conservatively sized electric shaver with a curled cord that helps to save room when being stored away but still allows enough cord to stretch from the electrical outlet. The shaving set comes complete with a beautiful hard leather case, the electric shaver (of course), and a maintenance kit that includes the lubes and oils, a screwdriver and a small soft bristled brush to quickly sweep off the whiskers. Naturally, I would throw in a bottle of the electric pre shave lotion, after shave lotion, and the matching scented deodorant.

I had gathered enough evidence and so I flushed the toilet, ran some water over my hands, and dried them off with one of the green towels. I walked back across the bathroom for the door and as I reached for the handle, that’s when I heard the muffled squeal of a little boy calling out for his mom. The client didn’t respond at first and a few more calls and then finally I could hear the clunking of her heels getting louder as she got closer.

“Coming Tommy!” the woman called to him.

The darkness inside me squirmed in a way that I hadn’t felt before. A cold chill ran a marathon sprint down my spine and something inside of me seemed to say, ‘don’t leave the bathroom.’ The door across from the bathroom creaked open as the mother went inside to check on her young. I bent down by the door and was able to peek through the keyhole to see what could be the trouble.

The door to the bedroom is left open and inside I could see the far wall painted blue with a desk built into the wall littered with wooden Lincoln logs, a globe, various children’s stationery, an Indian headdress, books and the sort. The carpet is a cream color with red and yellow streaks running through it. The kid’s room is detailed in a cowboys and Indians style, keenly popular for the times.

The young boy is laying on his stomach on the floor with his feet bent up in the air with cowboy boots on his feet. The mother stood over him talking to him but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. As I sat and watched, I couldn’t help but notice that the boy’s feet stood perfectly still. They once didn’t budge or switch positions as if he was a statue.

Another cold chill rained down my spine as she finally moved from standing over him and went swiftly for the hallway to exit the room, closing the door behind her. I stood up just in time for her to ask me, “Are you working on a ballad in there or something? I’m about to change your damn address and charge you rent!”

I swung the door open before she could continue badgering me and smiled as I spoke, “are you ready?”

She gave me a cock eye and a grimace as she turned back down the hall towards the living room once more. I quickly followed suit behind her through the hall, into the foyer and finally back into the living room to start my act. The client grabbed her drink off the cart as she walked past it and sat down on the couch. She sat her drink down next to a ceramic ashtray that held the cigarette that I had given her once before. Once carefully snubbed out, she pulled out a cheap lighter, that I assume she got off the bar cart, and lit it up once more. She took a good drag off it as I sat down in the chair I had once been offered before.

I reached over for my case and sat it across my lap as I fumbled at the locks to get it opened. The mechanisms flipped up at attention allowing me access to my case. I opened it and started, “I’m going to start off with the Avon products that I have to offer that I feel you may be quite interested in. I’m going to show you the products that I feel will be of most interest to you since I’ve already taken up a lot of your time.”

I grabbed out some perfume samples and handed them over to her for her to smell, “Here are these to start, as you asked about them when I first badgered you.” Getting out the tube of Smokers Toothpaste, I continued, “as we both know it’s not a secret you’re a smoker, I want to start off by offering you this toothpaste that is specially designed and engineered for smokers. It takes aim at eliminating smoke breath, freshening the user’s breath and protecting enamel on the teeth for day long defense against even the toughest tobacco products.”

I handed over a brochure outlining the benefits of the Smokers Toothpaste along with some other products that are sold alongside the toothpaste such as mouth wash and other dental hygiene products. As she took the toothpaste and information pamphlet I grabbed out the electric razor set.

“This would be perfect for your husband! This beautiful handcrafted electric razor is perfect for a quick and keen shave!” I opened the leather case to reveal the shaver and the things that go along with it. “This is equipped with a nice coiled cord that allows for easy storage and cord length at the same time. Also it comes with some oils and lubes for the razor to keep it working at its best--”

“Hey, honey!” a male voice called out from down the hall.

I smiled, “and that must be him now.”

Her face drained of colored and her once curious and intrigued face turned to disgust and annoyance, “stay here and mind your business,” she muttered to me as she got up from the couch and started down the hallway. Her heels once again clanked along the floor and faded as she got further away.

Another cold chill ran down my back and the darkness swirled within me as if to say something about this house is far from a homestead for the innocent. I closed my case, sat it on the coffee table and stood up to quickly stretch my legs. I unconsciously walked over in front of the fireplace to peek down the hall. I couldn’t see anyone or anything out of place. I let out a breath of air and walked back over to the front door where I first came in. I never turned around to see the inside of the door and if I had, I would have noticed then the bizarre amount of locks, deadbolts, and chain locks on the door. However, aside from the smorgasbord of locks, every single one of those locks had been engaged locking us in and the outside world out.

The hunter is now being the hunted. I knew something wasn’t right about this the moment I stepped into the hallway to check out the bathroom. My palms began to sweat and adrenaline began to pump as I turned from the door and began to gather things to put back into my case. I did so quietly so I could listen for when the client began to head back towards the living room. I slammed the case closed and turned towards the door. There wasn’t any way I could get through all those locks before she would start heading back and possibly even hear me unbolting them. That’s when I remembered that the garage is downstairs and that I could hopefully make a quieter escape through the garage door.

My case in hand, I headed back towards the fireplace and then turned towards the hall. I kept my eyes alerted for the hallway watching for any of the doors to open as I inched closer and closer to the stairs. What felt like an eternity, I finally made it to the stairs and slowly crept down them being careful not to creek any of them and possibly alert her or someone else in the house.

The downstairs is dark and barren and I luckily happened to be carrying a small flashlight in my jacket pocket that I reached for and pulled out. I hit the on button and it glowed with intensity creating a beam of light that I used to sweep across my path. I came to one landing that turned off to a few more steps that then empty out onto the bottom floor.

The stairs led to a small hallway that offered two doors to enter, a few more pieces of taxidermy on the walls, and a stuffed bobcat sat next to a small table beside the stairs. The bobcat stood on all four on top of a faux rock with other fake plants, with its mouth wide open in a frozen growl. I took the door closest to the bottom of the stairs and prayed it was to the garage.

I grabbed the handle and it felt abnormally cold, but I ignored it and turned and pushed through. The door swung inward to a large open space and freezing cold air blew out of the room along with a pungent indescribable smell. It felt like a garage but I couldn’t make out any cars or even the garage door. My eyes started to adjust and I swept the flash light beam across the room breaking up the darkness. The beam caught something that sent chills down my spine. The outline of a person just standing in the darkness and then my light caught another and then another. The room was full of people, but they all sat eerily still as if the light was going to flip on and everyone was going to yell ‘surprise!’

I finally honed the light in on a body whose face I couldn’t make out and I finally came to the conclusion it was just a manikin and nothing more. I felt along the side of the wall, as I entered the room, in hopes of finding a light switch or something. Finally, my hand hit the plate with four small buttons on it and pushed in on the top two bringing to light the room. The lights kicked on revealing the large room full of furniture and people. But the people weren’t manikins as I had originally anticipated, but real life people. Dead. STUFFED. People. They were all doing different things, many of them sat at fold up card tables playing cards. Some had drinks, others had cigarettes. A small group of them sat together in a corner rootless, but portrayed to be having a conversation and enjoying themselves.

Among all the business of the taxidermied humans, a subtle ambience of sound filled the room. Conversations in different voices mumble around, bits of laughter here and there as if the light brought the room to life, literally, along with it the dead’s voices.

I examined one body closely and the skin on the stuffed cadaver had become a hard crusted leather that looked like it could crack under the smallest amount of pressure. The pungent odor worsened as I got deeper into the room as it was coming from the bodies scattered around. The eyes on the poor victims had been replaced with glass ones and everyone had been dressed in appropriate party attire. Men in suits, ties, and hats while the women had on makeup and dresses. Some of the people stood up in place but the majority of them sat in seats.

The lifeless motion in the room is indescribable as you have expected people to start moving and carrying on with what they had been set up to do but they didn’t move. The eerie muffled voices added to the incongruousness of the atmosphere. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It had to be close to about twenty or more people that filled this room. Twenty or more people she had killed and stuffed. Her taxidermy ‘hobby’ was more than a hobby, it’s a serious deadly addiction. The darkness once again swirled with almost delight at the sight, but I was truly going ape inside.

I wanted to get out of the house, faster than what I had wanted before. I couldn’t handle the sight, even with the horrible things that I have done myself. I couldn’t stand there to see this monstrosity anymore. I turned back around quickly beating feet to get to the doorway and back out to the stairwell. I smacked the light switches with one hand cutting the sound and lights to the room leaving the room to go back to its deathly silence as I closed the door to this portion of an earthly nightmare.

I rushed down to the other door praying that it was a way out of this house of horrors and not just another room full of these horrific hellish created creatures. My hand reached out and grabbed the knob to the other room and when I went to turn it, nothing. Locked tight. I turned away from the door and stared fear filled and menacingly down the hallway towards the start of the stairs. I can’t believe I’m going to have to go back upstairs. Hell, at this point I may have to kill my way out of this situation and reveal to the world this woman’s secrets.

I made my way back towards the start of the stairs and peeked around the corner to look up the stairwell. Nothing seemed out of place or out of the ordinary. Luck would have it that she wouldn’t even have noticed I was gone. I quickly and quietly creeped back up the stairs in hopes that she hadn’t noticed my absence. I listened perceptively, again trying to make out any sounds of her walking around. The house stood unnervingly quiet as I climbed the stairs to the devil’s layer.

I made it back to the top of the stairs and once more carefully peeked around the corner down the hall. All the doors remained shut and nothing appeared abnormal, so I stepped up onto the ground floor and made my way back to the living room and to attempt to start unlocking the door. If she comes in, I’ll excuse myself and tell her I will come back at a better time.

I walked back into the living room and all the color drained from my face and with it feeling in my whole body dropped out too, leaving me numb. Sweat not only beaded, but it began to pour from my face as I couldn’t believe what I was going to say or the excuse I was going to use. Where the client sat when I was giving my pitch, she sat once again sitting perched and waiting patiently but this time she wore a sinister grin as if she conjured deep and dark plans for me.

“Now, ain’t that a bite?” I replied calmly.

“Cut the gas, Ed. I reckon you aren’t looking for the bathroom downstairs.”

Ed!? How did she know my name!? She had to have gone through my case while I was in the bathroom. I could feel my insides swirl with emotions and terror once more. I shuddered with fear as I talked, “Well I looked down the hallway for you and couldn’t find you so I went to check down there and let you know that I was going to come back at a better time and I didn’t want to leave without saying something.”

She stood up as I talked and walked towards my direction as I stood by the fireplace. She still held on to her horrific grin as she spoke, “Well, ain’t that a hell of an excuse. Say, Ed, how do you plan on bringing in your 1955 this year?”

“1955?” I questioned. The New Year wouldn’t be around to be celebrated for another six months at least. “I’m not sure,” I began to respond, “I haven’t really thought that far ahead really.”

“We plan to bring 1955 in with a bang!” She laughed maniacally as she pulled out a .38 caliber Colt Cobra revolver and fired off a crack that smacked into the brick next to my head nearly missing instant death.

I jumped back nearly falling over, but quickly regaining my footing enough to get turned around and start running down the hallway. My ears rang from the shot of the gun and my hands poured with sweat as I struggled to keep a grip on my case. Everything appeared to move slowly as I ran past the stairs and into the hallway. I came to the door that I had peeked into when I went to the bathroom and shoved with all my weight and might into it. The door broke easily open into what I had originally, now knowing I guess correctly, assumed to be a study with the newspaper man.

As soon as I crossed the threshold from the hallway into the study another bullet rang off whizzing, once again, past me and crashing into the frame of the doorway. I turned and slammed the door shut and jammed in on the little button in the middle of the handle locking the door. I’m gasping for breath at this point, while sweat poured down my face and turned and pressed myself against the door to create more of an obstacle for the woman to get into the room.

At this point, I was turned towards the newspaper man while a soft tune came to an end from the old record player that spun a record on its top. The big orange cat hadn’t moved from its abysmal slumber and the man hadn’t been moved. He continued to hold up the paper intensely reading the news. I stood for a moment, lost in the newspaper man’s room. He himself, the cat at his feet, the soft crackle of the record player, it was all almost mesmerizing. A piano at a soft but quicken pace of being played beamed from the player and Smiley Lewis’ voice rang out.

Then from outside the door, a familiar female voice belonging to that of the resident softly spoke to me, “I’m going to be anti-frantic for a moment and ask that you come out. My husband must not be disturbed from his news and tunes. Now if you could open this door.”

I wasn’t even coming close to unlocking that door and just letting her waltz in here for her to blow my head off. And almost like a comic relief, the chorus came through the record player and Smiley sang out ‘Keep on knocking, but you can’t come in.’

This must have pissed her off because in an instant she changed her mind about how she felt and began pounding on the door and screaming at me to let her in. And not so anti-frantically.

“Let me in you son-of-a-bitch! You’re upsetting Tim!”

Tim sat silently, reading his paper as I held myself pressed against the door. I quickly surveyed the room trying to find a way out. The study held an array of books and leather bound novels that all sat neatly within the bookshelves that covered the walls. The wall behind the newspaper man is the only wall that didn’t have bookshelves lining it but instead covered in a dark red pattern wallpaper, a few large catch taxidermy animals, some old photographs and a large fireplace with a mantel that houses two large vases. Off to the side, from in front of the fireplace, sat the newspaper man in his rocking chair with the floor lamp still burning with a golden glow next to him.

A large wooden desk that matched the color and grain of the shelves sits off to the right of the door and me. The desk has various stationary items and a lamp; nothing that could be used as a blunt force instrument unfortunately. I could possibly hide behind the desk, but that would require me to be knelt down and she would have the advantage of towering over me.

Banging on the door from the resident continued as the music played in the background and the newspaper man and the cat remained undisturbed. He almost seemed to call me into his presents and heedlessly my feet began to move towards him. I already knew what I was going to see, but something drew me closer. I moved around the newspaper to find the taxidermy man, glass eyes, staring into the newspaper with a wooden pipe hanging out of his mouth. His skin too had begun to crack like old leather and the smell surrounding him is fiendish.

The door began to crack and bow from the force of the attacker on the other side and the sound brought me back to reality. Standing on the left side of the newspaper man, I faced the left side wall from the door and in the corner a large grizzly bear stood on its hind legs giving a massive roar. The door continued to crack and bow and chunks even came splintering out of the door giving way for the attacker to come close to being able to come in.

The floor lamp gained power through an electrical outlet in the floor. I quickly bent over and pulled the plug plunging the room to a darkness that my eyes quickly adjusted to. I ran around the newspaper man and headed straight for the large bear in the corner to prepare my attack.

As soon as I got hidden behind the ferocious beast, the door broke free, giving way to the attacker and allowing hall light to spill into the study. She stepped into the room, while her backside remained drenched in light creating a halo of light behind her and the front of her twilight dark. She stood breathing heavily with a twisted grin that would make the devil proud of her frightful sight.

“Where is he, Tim!?” she shouted at the newspaper man.

The first thing she checked was the desk, holding the revolver straight out in front of her sweeping it across the right side of the room and then quickly moving around the desk to look under it. I dodged a bullet by not hiding there and then she started for the other side of the room. She continued to hold the gun out in front of her as she progressed towards the bear.

The record ended and a voice boomed across a speaker behind the newspaper man, “Honey!”

“Just a minute, dear,” she mumbled under her breath.

She stepped in front of the bear and turned around to check that I wasn’t hiding beside the door and that’s when I made my move. I had already set my briefcase down and prepared to push the bear over. I shoved it with all my might and she didn’t notice that the bear tumbling down on top of her until it was too late when she had started to turn around and she stood nose to nose with it. The bear, with its arms already out stretched, took her into a bear hug as the duo went to the floor.

The gun remained in her hand and when she hit the floor the gun went off sending a bullet into my left bicep. The bullet hit me with a nasty punch sending pain rushing from my arm into my chest. I cried out in pain and started for the door. The bitch laid out across the floor with the bear as a blanket.

The voice came booming again with a, “thank you dear, what would I do without you?”

The voice, whom I assumed is supposed to be that of the newspaper man, gave me the creeps to think that is what she would run off to answer. I then thought back to that child’s voice that rang out when we started to go over the products I had to sell. It sent chills down my spine once more thinking about her stuffing a child, possibly her OWN child.

My arm continued to throb with pain and I exited the study and turned right towards the bathroom. I held my right hand out against the wall to steady myself as I walked and did my best to nurse my bad arm by holding it bent up and pressed against my chest. I had plans to go get the mouthwash, if I couldn’t find any other disinfectant, to throw on my wound and wrap it in a towel. After that I was getting the hell out of that house.

My hand led me down the hall until I made it to the bathroom and my hand, still guiding me along the wall and towards my destination, inadvertently hit the child’s cowboy room door knocking the door open revealing the room. I stood dazed and confused as I turned my head to look into the room. Again, all I could see was the feet of the kid, still propped up bent at the knee. He hadn’t moved this entire time and I already knew why.

Again, I’m drawn in for no rhyme or reason. I didn’t really care to see the heinousness Satan made creation that the room holds, but the darkness inside feeds on it, chaperoned to it. My legs move me into the room as I got closer, more became revealed of the young boy on the floor. He wore his cowboy boots with blue slacks that had laces along the seam on the side of the pants for both legs. His belt hung loose on him with gun holsters on both hip and silver metal pop guns occupied the holsters. His cream colored button up large collar shirt laid under his blue vest that matches his pants. The vest too had laces along the edges of the vest. Finally, I got to his head that has a red cowboy with white string trim.

A battle between cowboys and Native Americans took place in front of him scattered around on the floor. The natives are dressed in their animal skins and feathers armed with tomahawks and spears while the cowboys fought back with their rifles and pistols. A rather unfair fight but they seemed to be holding their own. The light to the room hung over head burning creating light in the room with the help of the two cowboy boot and desert scene lamps that sat on either side of the bed in the room. The bed matched the red, blue, and cream color scheme and opposite of the bed, next to blue closet doors, a door hung open revealing a bathroom.

‘Yes!’ I thought to myself. I pushed through the room making my way around the boy on the floor and then almost disturbingly, a little voice came out of nowhere, “HAHA! Take that you dirty savages. Pow pow! Ugh! Oh! We gotta a man down! Shoot ’em! Shoot ’em!”

I jumped a little, taken back by the voice and not expecting it. The recording continued creating commentary of the battle, along with the sounds of the guns going off, people getting stabbed and shot, and battle cries. I brushed it off and continued into the bathroom flipping the switch to ignite the room.

I walked into a Jack-and-Jill bathroom that acted as a bathroom for two rooms: the cowboy kid’s room and then another room laid beyond the other side of the bathroom. Who’s light is also on and one I would be drawn to explore but before that, I made a cut for the sink and dived under it looking for a first aid kit and found it among some other cleaning products. I pulled the tin box out and put it up on the counter, flipped the lid and dug.

The light in the bathroom drenched everything into a golden color which only intensified with the rest of the yellow and white color scheme in the bathroom. The tub, sink and toilet are all colored porcelain white while the rest of the pieces like the shower curtain, towels, and tile are a yellow hue. The Band-Aids, rolls of gauze, packs of sterile pads, cotton balls, and more in the box seemed to be made of gold. It didn’t take long for me to find the glass bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I unscrewed the tin cap and poured a few gulps onto my arm. The pain stung like a blow off in a hot rod race and I quickly snatched a towel off one of the racks and pressed hard onto the wound in hopes it would get better. I took a roll of the gauze and wrapped my arm in it as I slowly made my way through the bathroom to the other room.

This room has a similar layout of that of the cowboy kid’s room but the color scheme is the same yellow of that in the boy’s room and bathroom and a red that matched the red in the boy’s room as well. This room’s wall is covered in a white wallpaper with yellow roses, the bedspread has a giant yellow rose with red specks in the pedals printed on it and either side of the bed, running about a foot out from the wall is white lattice to further provide the look of a rose garden room. This bedroom has a desk as well built into the wall painted yellow and at the desk sat a pretty little blonde with braided pigtails and a yellow rose printed dress. Her desk too is neatly littered with stationary, a stuffed rabbit with long ears, some books and a yellow telephone. She held a crayon in her hand and the crayon pressed to paper as if time had frozen while she sat in the middle of her drawing a picture.

A soft humming came from the desk, as the girl sat coloring, her prerecording brought her to life with her soft tune of ‘You Are My Sunshine.’ Creepy. I swung my leg forward to walk further from the edge of the room and the bowie knife in my pocket brushed up against a wooden dollhouse. Eureka! I forgot about my knife this whole time. I quickly bent down and dug it out from under my pants leg and held it up with the blade pointed out in front of me, ready to slash and cut at whatever got in front of me.

I lost interest in the girl and walked over to the door to her room from the hallway and slowly slid my head out into the hallway to see if she had got up from her bear hug. The hallway remained empty. If she had gotten knocked out, now would be my chance to attack. I had become a professional at being stealthy in this house at this point and lite footed it out of the yellow rose room and moved down the hall swiftly.

The cowboy room on my left and the bathroom on my right, I kept moving forward, rapidly approaching the newspaper man’s study and then from the doorway of the study, she jumped out in my path with the gun pointed in my direction. A shot squeezed off and like a miracle that seemed to encase me in a dome, the bullet whizzed past my head. At the same time, I was already bringing the knife up and before she could squeeze another shot off, the knife left my hand floated through the air and lodged itself into her chest. Her gun fell from her hand and clattered on the floor and not long after the gun hit the floor, she fell backwards and hit it too.

I stumbled over to her body, grabbed the knife, wiped it off onto her now bloody green blouse and carried on for the living room. I had escaped death once again and, oh my, did the darkness inside me swim with delight at my now unexpected recent kill. I smiled to myself as I walked into the open foyer and rounded for the living room. This place is more gruesome than I would ever imagine any place on earth could be. The stories this house could tell.

I left my briefcase, but I was getting out of door-to-door now. This shit is too risky and I was getting bored with it. I would now have to call the police and make a report or risk being put in danger of being caught when the neighbors would become worried about never seeing anyone come or go from the home and they would search the place along with the taxidermy humans and the clients dead corpse, they would find my case.

I made it through the living room and to the front door, I got started on pulling the chains, unbolting the bolts and unlocking the locks. I finally came to the last chain and pulled it free. It dangled from the plate and swayed against the door. I grabbed the handle, turned and pulled the door open. The sunlight poured through and into the living room and with it brought the fresh outside air. I blinked the sun out of my eyes and lifted my foot to cross out onto the walkway.

As I lifted my foot, the darkness went from delight to alert and went from a soft swirling putty to a ball of spikes that sent my abdomen into pains. It almost took me off balance as I bent forward a little bit trying to dull the pain and in that moment a blast from the revolver in that damned bitch’s hand echoed off the living room walls and spilled out into the world.