Georgia had exhausted the hinges of her closet, jolting as she opened to a vacancy and bolting it shut; but, it wasn't enough to imprison the monster there, as she'd tremble into bed and watch the darkness swell between the folding doors. She would cry and twist in soiled sheets until the creature would slink back in.
Ten years ago, the doctor prescribed Georgia unnecessary medications, and Georgia promptly flushed them down the drain. She lost herself that long ago and had grown spindly from hiding. No one would find her in this house in this forest in this little cover in her little world. No one, but sometimes she would hear her husband knocking on the windows.
"Georgia," he would coo. "Georgia."
"Save me," Georgia wrote in painful letters to long-dead friends. The ink bled like her throat when she screamed or her arms when cried too much while cutting through her dirty clothes.
"Why am I alive?"
"I dare you to go into that old woman Georgia's house, Buddy," Mack said while turning his flashlight off. "I dare you, come on."
"I don't want to."
"I'm not a baby, Mack! I'm ten years old."
Mack pulled Buddy along and took a paperclip from his jeans pocket.
"You'll see how it's done."
Cleverly and smoothly, Mack turned the knob and opened the rotting door. As they tiptoed in, their nostrils burned at the stench of soured flesh.
"What is that smell, Mack?"
"Hell if I know." but the boys tripped on Georgia, who died ten years too late in a wrinkled mess and tattered clothes. Mack turned the flashlight back on and dropped it in a panic. Trembling, he fled the room as Buddy stared into Georgia's glass eyes in the harsh, isolated light.
Buddy bent down and pushed Georgia's thinned white hair back and said, "You were in a lot pain, weren't you?" and the closet door began to open with a tired creak. But Buddy was unafraid. Something in this house strengthened him, and he walked quietly towards the closet door.
A dozen green eyed creatures, washing the blood off their paws.