27. The Knock
Knock, knock, knock!
They both jumped as they heard a frantic knocking coming from the front door. Their wide eyes locked onto each other.
“It’s them!” Abram bolted for the door. Margaret was close behind him—turning over furniture as they both ran.
The rapid knocking came again as Abram fiddled with the deadbolt and lock. “We’re here, boys!” he shouted, unable to conceal his joy. He flung open the door, just as a bolt of lightning lit up the porch. There before them was a small, dark figure wearing a brown robe.
“Gus? Is that you?” Margaret reached down and grabbed the figure with her hands, just as it lifted up its head. Margaret screamed and fell backward inside.
“What the—?” Abram scooped his wife up in his arms. “Who are you?” The figure took a step inside, and into the warm, dim light of the living room.
Knock, knock, knock!
They both jumped as they heard a frantic knocking coming from the front door. Their wide eyes locked onto each other.
“It’s them!” Abram bolted for the door. Margaret was close behind him—turning over furniture as they both ran.
The rapid knocking came again as Abram fiddled with the deadbolt and lock. “We’re here, boys!” he shouted, unable to conceal his joy. He flung open the door, just as a bolt of lightning lit up the porch. There before them was a small, dark figure wearing a brown robe.
“Gus? Is that you?” Margaret reached down and grabbed the figure with her hands, just as it lifted up its head. Margaret screamed and fell backward inside.
“What the—?” Abram scooped his wife up in his arms. “Who are you?” The figure took a step inside, and into the warm, dim light of the living room.
Knock, knock, knock!
They both jumped as they heard a frantic knocking coming from the front door. Their wide eyes locked onto each other.
“It’s them!” Abram bolted for the door. Margaret was close behind him—turning over furniture as they both ran.
The rapid knocking came again as Abram fiddled with the deadbolt and lock. “We’re here, boys!” he shouted, unable to conceal his joy. He flung open the door, just as a bolt of lightning lit up the porch. There before them was a small, dark figure wearing a brown robe.
“Gus? Is that you?” Margaret reached down and grabbed the figure with her hands, just as it lifted up its head. Margaret screamed and fell backward inside.
“What the—?” Abram scooped his wife up in his arms. “Who are you?” The figure took a step inside, and into the warm, dim light of the living room.