Member-only story
We park in Jeff’s garage and follow him through the door, which, oddly, leads into a dimly lit bedroom that looks like its seen better days. In the darkness it’s hard to see everything in the eerie room. There are mountains of clothes up to my waist. None of the furniture looks quite whole — the dresser has been smashed into many small pieces and all the drawers are scattered across the room.
Off the bedroom is the living room. An old man sits in an oversized plush chair, not seeming to notice anyone has arrived.
It is becoming more of a horror flick by the second.
“This is my father. Introduce yourselves,” Jeff says as he heads into the kitchen.
The old man slowly turns to Rick and me. He is so old and frail, and hooked up to an oxygen tank, I doubt he can leave his chair. We tell the old man our names and he mumbles an inaudible response. Rick and I glance at each other wondering what he had said and what we should do next.
Jeff is getting out pasta and sauce and starting in on both beer and cigarettes. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying,” he says to us from the kitchen.
We follow Jeff out the back door where two small beagles are kept in a kennel. They start yelping as we pass their cage. Two trucks in different states of deterioration are in the…
