We were plunged into total darkness, save for the weak beam of her dropped flashlight on the floor.

Then, we heard the heavy, slow thud of footsteps descending the wooden basement stairs.

The leather soles creaked loudly against the damp wood.

Mrs. Conti gasped, her grip on my hands tightening until it hurt.

“Someone’s down here,” she whispered in a panicked breath.

We held our breath as the footsteps stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

A long shadow fell across the crack beneath the cellar door.

Then, the brass doorknob began to slowly turn.

The brass knob clicked.

I grabbed Mrs. Conti by the elbow and pulled her backward into the narrow gap behind the old metal furnace.

My back scraped against the cold, damp stone of the cellar wall.

“Shh,” I breathed against her ear, my heart pounding against my ribs.

She was shaking so hard her teeth clicked together in the dark.

I pressed my hand over her mouth, tasting the salty sweat and dirt on her skin.

The heavy wooden door creaked open on its rusted hinges.