• Alex could remember his first walking tour of the boarding house as if it were only yesterday. He had no tour guide, so it was quite an interesting experience. Walking into the front door he'd stepped into a foyer, which had a large curtained entryway leading into the sitting room with a hallway to the front of him. The foyer itself was decorated by dusty trinkets and nick-knacks on the wall shelves, strange abstract paintings by what must have been local artists on the walls. He turned to the right and pushed past the curtain into the sitting room, which was furnished in old Victorian style, though the furniture's padding had a maroonish tint to it, it looked threadbare and tattered. The windows were covered in more curtains, the only light coming from two small table lamps that barely lit the room at all. There was a small television and a few little end tables and a coffee table scattered about, the carpet clean though matted down from wear. The sitting room had a large doorway also curtained that led into the dining area, the furniture from that also looking as if it were stolen from the Victorian era and then badly misused. The floor was tiled in that room, a dusty four-bulbed chandelier with cieling fan hanging from the ceiling with two bulbs missing. A smaller doorway led from the dining room into the kitchen, the ceiling light flickering with a small round table and chairs looking as if they'd been stolen from a bad eightie's movie. The tiles were coming up off of the floor in there in the corners. The kitchen had another doorway that led back into the hall he saw from the foyer. Directly next to the kitchen there was a door to the basement that was heavily locked, he wasn't allowed down there. Up a set of half-winding stairs there was a long hall with seven bedrooms, each given the military-like decorum of his room. Everything was dark, from the walls to the creaky floors and threadbare carpeting. It was like walking into the mismatched haunted house from Hell.

    Padding down the stairs, Alex noticed the kitchen light on as he turned into the hall. He could immediately smell the heavy smoke lingering in the air as he stepped into the kitchen, causing the light to be reflected around the thin fog of cigarette smoke, causing a slight fog effect. There were at least four butts sitting in the small black ashtray in front of Cletus, the old man seated at the table dressed in a white t-shirt and overalls eating a balogna and jelly sandwich. Cletus was the oldest tennant in the house at eighty-five, his hair barely holding onto his head in snowy whisps around the sides, nothing at all on top. He was thin, seeming as if he would fall over at any time and be done with. However, he was much stronger than he looked, sixty years of smoking without cancer or that nasty rattling smoker's cough proving it.

    Cletus was also the only person in the entire town it seemed, who liked Alex. He tilted his head up at him as he took notice, offering him a half-toothless grin. "Well come in, m'boy. Don't just stand there lookin' stupid." Cletus' voice was sort of dry, the sort one would expect from an old Southern man who spent all day smoking. Alex felt a little relieved to see the old man there, the lingering chill of his nightmare falling from him as he walked to the coffee pot, smirking over his shoulder. "What are you doing up so late, old fart?" Cletus cackled, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Eatin', what does it look like?" Alex's smirk widened into a grin. "Alright, let me rephrase the question..Why are you up so late?" Cletus, you god you. He brewed coffee. Alex reached over to the hooks holding many different sizes and shapes of coffee mugs, plucking up his favorite, a dark blue curvy one. "The damn house-noises..I swear, we've got rats." Cletus spoke around a mouthful of food while Alex prepared his coffee.

    The house noises.. Alex knew all about those. He heard them all the time. Clangs in the pipes, scuffling sounds coming from the heating ducts, or the occasional loud thud or crash. Alex fidgeted with his spoon for a moment before he tossed it into the sink and took a seat across from the old man. If anyone would listen to his ideas, he thought it would be Cletus. "I think the sounds are coming from the basement." Cletus paused with the last bit of sandwich in his hand, a strip of bologna dangling from between the slices of bread dripping with grape jelly that made Alex's stomach turn a little. The old man eyed the younger boy for a long moment before he scarfed the last of his meal. "There ain't nothin' in that basement that could be makin' noises like that, lessen' it was as big as a gator, and clumsy to boot." Alex looked at Cletus thoughtfully, nervous fingers playing with the handle of his coffee mug. "I think there's a person down there."

    Cletus stared at Alex for a long time with wide eyes, dawning in horrified realization. Standing, he rubbed his stubbly chin, looking toward the basement door. "So -that's- where all the Mormons and Jehova's Witnesses keep disappearin' to!" Alex laughed and dropped his head to the table. Cletus joined into the laughter as well as he turned from the door, waving a dismissive hand at it. "We'll just leave 'em there." The both of them were laughing hysterically by then, though it was cut off harshly when a loud thud issued from the basement.