Page 126 of Trick or Stalk

I glare at the door.

“Seven years, Margaret?”

I shake my head. I'm going to find someone to fix this damn door.

I reach inside and flip on the light.

Boxes line the walls.

Old displays lean against shelves. Plastic containers marked CHRISTMAS and HALLOWEEN are stacked in one corner.

I step inside.

Margaret said the box labeled “Halloween Week” is toward the back.

I weave around boxes, totes, and an old register that looks like it’s from two decades ago.

She should throw the damn thing away.

Maybe I’ll do it.

Another day.

A cardboard box sits on the floor.

“There you are.”

I bend and lift it. It’s heavier than I expect.

“Good God. What’s in this thing?”

I shift the box in my arms.

Then I hear a creak from behind me.

My skin prickles.

“Margaret?”

Nothing.

I spin around, staring at the open doorway.

“Stop it, Presley.”

I adjust the box and take a step toward the doorway.

The heavy wooden door moves.

My eyes widen. “No⁠—”

I move as fast as I can, still carrying the heavy box.

BANG.

The door slams shut.

I drop the box.