Here I explain when I post and what I enjoy writing about. You can expect to see new content on this Stream every Tuesdays and Fridays.

A curtain twitched in the window. Someone—or something—was watching. He raised his hand to knock, but the door creaked open before he could. A stench hit him like a wall, sour and rotten, and Vincent gagged, fumbling for a handkerchief. The hallway stretched before him, dim and cluttered, dark tracks marring the threadbare carpet. Upstairs, a sudden creak made him jerk his head. Then—a crash. “Help,” a frail voice whispered. Vincent rushed down the hallway, heart hammering, to find the source: an elderly woman trapped beneath an antique armoire. Her pale, lined face twisted in fear as he lifted the heavy piece off her. “Thank you,” she whispered, gasping. “Of course,” he said, reaching out. She shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t need help, sonny,” she muttered. Then the door slammed. Her feet lifted from the floor. Her eyes pleaded with him as she was dragged backward, into the darkness of the bathroom, screaming. Vincent froze, powerless, as the door slammed shut.