Inspired by: Spanish Harlem Incident
Malcolm was still getting used to living on the streets. He hadn’t settled on a haunt yet and instead roamed the city at will. He traveled at random and today found himself on a road he’d never seen before.
“New Orleans Street. How have I missed you?”
He walked up and down the street to see if anything caught his eye. One building did. It was a derelict brownstone that must have been pre-world war one. It looked like it was barely standing, but the front door was open, and a silhouette of a woman was calling him in.
“Hello? Sorry to bother, but whatever your cooking smells delicious! Think I could stay for a bite? Where did you go?”
He roamed the halls and caught a glimpse of her as she entered into a bedroom on the top floor.
“This is good too, whatever you have in mind! Can we eat after?”
He followed her into the bedroom, the door closed behind him. Automatically.
“What are you… how are you… what is that! What are you doing? No, stop! STOP!”
The earth shook beneath the building, and a satisfying sigh escaped the bedroom, but Malcolm wasn’t as lucky.