Off to the right was another building—a ranch-style home painted white with green trim and shutters. Two rocking chairs sat on the deep porch to either side of the entrance. The upper half of the front door consisted of two rectangles of opaque, beveled glass. An old-timey brass knocker in the shape of a crucifix was set into the middle of the door beneath the frosted panes. Seven steps led up to the porch. On the bottom-most step stood a tall, gaunt man in a dark-red doctor’s coat. The bald head angled down. Robert could not see the face. Stick-figure arms dangled at the stranger’s sides. No pants or shoes. The showing skin bloodless and taut. Knobby knees and skeletal, hairless legs stuck out from the bottom of the coat. The stranger bent an elbow, raised a hand, waved. The fingers had too many knuckles.
Everything is Horrible Now, by Edward Lorn