We kicked through the slithering things and stomped up after the dog, just as the stairwell door banged shut completely on its own.
I reached for the knob. At the same moment it began to melt and transform, turning pink and finally taking the shape of a flaccid penis. It flopped softly against the door, like a man was cramming it through the knob hole from the other side.
I turned back to John and said, “That door cannot be opened.”
As I was walking down the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today.
I wish, I wish he'd go away.