[Editor’s Note: If you’ve not yet read the first part of David’s vacation in Maine, you’ll want to do so before proceeding to this creepy continuation.]
The door creaked open a bit.
The intruder inside our vacation rental house turned his head to get a better look at us, just enough so all we could see through the crack was one of his eyes. In the moonless sky it looked black and beady.
“Who are you?” The One hooted threateningly. Great, I thought. We’re in the middle of the woods in Stephen King territory, and the usually reasonable love of my life decides to do a bit of chest pounding.