The Uninvited Guest

Zack opened the door to the basement. His heart was pounding. The cellar was about the size of a small bedroom and full of random objects. His sister's ice skates hung besides his father's tarp. A clock rested against the stairs. Parallel to the stairs, there was a small wooden door. Ever since Zack had moved here nine years ago, this door has given him the creeps. It had never opened, and it didn't have a keyhole, much less a key to use on it. Taking a deep breath, he told himself to calm down; there wasn't anything unusual about the door.

Zack crossed the floor, wincing at the cold temperature of the concrete ground. The sharp, musty smell that most basements seem to have greeted him cooly. He reached for the can of tomato sauce that he needed to make dinner when something out of the corner of his eye made him freeze. He was sure that he had just seen the doorknob turn.

The boy stood stiffly, gazing at the door with such intensity as if he was daring it to open. Zack glared at it, willing it to give him a chance to prove himself against some bandit, or runaway prisoner, even though he was scared stiff. Soon, Zack shook his head. He was being silly; it didn't just try to open, and it wasn't going to.

Tucking the cold metal can under his arm, Zack pushed his blondish-brown hair out of his aquamarine eyes, shoving his wire-rimmed glasses farther up his nose as he did. Zack was currently thirteen, and he was living in Pennsylvania with his mother, father, and twin sister, Josie. Although the door in the cellar scared him slightly, he wasn't a scardy-cat. In his defense, everything had an irrational fear, be it spiders, or needles, or clowns. Zack suddenly shivered at the thought of clowns. Yep. Clowns are scary, too.

Zack bounded up the stairs and into the light of the kitchen, wishing more than anything that the doorknob in the basement would be far from his , he got his wish. As the smell of pizza filled the kitchen, Zack felt more at ease, leaning against the counter and sipping milk out of his cup. He wondered when his parents would be back from work. The milk was very nearly spilled as Zack jumped without warning; he had heard the sound of a door opening from under his feet.

The hair on the back of Zack's neck prickled as he shakily set down his glass and grabbed a large flashlight that doubles as a club if needed.

The boy took careful tip-toed steps to the door that marks the entrance to the basement. A hand unexpectedly fell on his shoulder, and he shrieked- in the manliest way possible, mind you. Zack whirled around and shined the flashlight into his attacker's eyes. The person recoiled, saying, "Calm down, Jumpy, it's me!"

"Josie?" Zack asked, relief and anger flowing through him at the same time. "Don't DO that!" His knuckles whitened at the strain of his desperate clutching on the heavy flashlight.

"What were you doing?" Josie asked, and then she added with a smirk, "You were in commando-stalker mode again." Josie then took the opportunity to steal some milk from Zack's unguarded cup.

"I heard a noise form the basement," Zack explained curtly. Josie laughed. "This is an old house, Zack. It makes noise."

"No, not like a creaking sound," Zack protested. "I think the door opened."

"It doesn't open. Never has, never will," Josie replied, rolling her eyes, which were the exact shade of Zack's.

"Wanna bet?" Zack challenged. "Yeah. There's nothing abnormal about the door, and if I win, you do my chores for the week." Zack shook his twin's hand. "And you do mine." With that, Zack opened the door to the basement. He almost regret making the deal as he stared into the black of the cellar. But, with an impatient nudge from Josie, he clicked on the flashlight and began descending the stairs.

The two were halfway down when the light from the kitchen flickered and vanished in a roll of thunder. Zack mutely squeaked, glad that Josie couldn't see the terrified expression on his face. Tightening his grasp on the only source of illumination, he continued stumbling his way down.

Both twins flinched at the temperature of the floor, but shook it off. Josie took the flashlight and shined it at the closed door. "Ha!" she exclaimed, accidentally blinding Zack momentarily. "Wait!" Zack protested, grabbing the flashlight back. He walked to the door and knelt down. Zack turned the handle and promptly scrambled back in horror as it opened with a slow, sorrowful squeak.

Zack looked behind at Josie and stuttered, "Y-you s-see? I-I won, a-and n-now, I'm g-getting away from here and n-never coming back!" Josie nodded, shock and fear written on her face as the dull beam hit it. "I second that motion!" Without a backwards glance, the two scrambled at top speed up the stairs and into the kitchen.

It wasn't as dark in the kitchen as it was in the basement. The dull light from the small window contrasted greatly with the light from the large window in the kitchen. Through the glass, the twins barely noted the fact that a downpour was now occurring. Great big raindrops tortured the sidewalks, the cars, and few unfortunate souls caught in the gale. Thunder crashed and lightning cracked far too often to be considered normal. The deep grey stratus cloud painted the sky, leaving a gloomy aura across nearly the entire city.

Josie slammed the door shut and locked it as an after thought. Not even glancing at the storm outside, she breathed, "That was freaky." Zack had absolutely no objections to that statement. He nodded weakly, shaking. "I watch too many horror movies," he remarked, staring dumbfounded at the closed door. Josie laughed shakily. "Me, too."

Both of the siblings jumped violently as the overhead lights flashed on. "Okay, that's enough creepy stuff for one night!" Zack called to no one in particular. "Shh," Josie suddenly said. "Listen." Zack sat still on the kitchen floor, trembling next to Josie.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump

Zack wished with all his being that the sound was merely his own heart pounding against his rib cage, but he had to admit that it sounded eerily like footsteps. "Where's it coming from?" he whispered to Josie. She shrugged, and the two waited for whatever fate was in store for them. Tension built, the rain pounded and the footsteps seemed to be getting closer. Suddenly, a loud ding! was heard behind them, and the two nearly jumped out of their skins in shock. Josie was the first to recover. "Just the oven," she pointed out. "Let go of me," she added, prying Zack off of her sweatshirt. She took the pizza out of the oven and placed it on the counter to cool.

The front door creaked open without warning, causing Zack to cling to his twin again. Their parents walked into the kitchen, shocked at the sight in front of them. Zack and Josie seemed to be getting along! While they stared, Zack ran and hugged his mother. "Mom! Mom! Mom! The door in the basement opened!"

His mother laughed, petting his hair with her rain soaked fingers. "The door doesn't open, Zack, remember?" Zack shook his head firmly, and Josie joined him, saying, "That's what I thought too, but it opened! I'm serious, Mom, it opened!" She put emphasis on the word, as if the simple thought of a door opening was outrageous. Their father chuckled, saying, "Well, why don't we go see it?"

They went down the stairs. Dad mumbled to himself, "I should really put some lights down here." Zack approached the door, which had mysteriously closed. He held the flashlight in the way a Japanese man might wield a katana. Reaching out a hand, he turned the door handle.

It didn't move.

"What?" he muttered, bewildered. "It opened before, I swear! Josie, you try!" The girl attempted to turn the handle, but was also unsuccessful. "Woah!" she cried. "That's way too creepy!" Why didn't the door open? Was it only their imagination, after all? Zack shook his head. No, he was sure that the door had opened. He had opened it himself, and he could still feel the cold breeze that wafted onto him, still smell the metallic stench of blood down the dark chamber.

Without warning, there was the sound of small, child-like feet running across the floor above them. The creature cackled evilly, but only once. Zack jumped. "Did you hear that?" he asked. Josie nodded and blanched while their parents looked confused. "Hear what?" they asked in sync. "That thing! Didn't you just hear it?" Zack asked, adrenaline flowing in him once again. When they continued to stare at them as if they thought they both needed serious mental help, Josie scoffed and dashed up the stairs. Zack could see her halt at the top of the stairs, staring in the direction of the oven. "What is it?" Zack asked, joining her. He, too, stopped and stared. "Zack," Josie said carefully. "Where's the pizza?"

The pizza was, indeed, gone. An empty cookie sheet stood with almost no traces that there even was an Italian dish in the first place. The only indication that it was ever there was a peculiar smudge of tomato sauce on the ceiling. "Josie..." Zack started, his voice shaking. "There's sauce on the ceiling," he pointed out as if she already didn't notice, his blue eyes staring wide through his glasses at the strange and unearthly sight. "What's wrong, you guys?" Mom asked, emerging from the basement. "Mom, you saw the pizza, right?" Josie asked, not turning. "When you came in?"

"No, why are you asking?" Mom said, unaware of the missing food. Zack and Josie answered the same thing at the same time. "It's gone." Mom stood behind them, straining her neck to try to glimpse at what they were gazing at with such intensity. "Okay, I give up. What am I looking at?" The twins stared at her, appalled that she couldn't see what was clearly there and not there. "Are you serious?" Mom nodded. "Yep."

Josie gestured wildly at the ceiling with one hand and the counter with the other. "There's tomato sauce on the ceiling, the pizza fell off of the face of the Earth, and something was laughing up here when we were downstairs!"

"Sweetie, are you feeling alright?" Mom said, feeling Josie's forehead for any tell-tale signs of a fever. "Mom! C'mere! The pan's still hot!" Zack called, poking the cookie sheet and then blowing on his finger to cool the throbbing. Mom strolled over and pressed her manicured finger the the pan, and she didn't draw back like Zack had done. "No, not really..." she said while trying to tell Zack's temperature. "I'm fine!" he hastily protested, pulling away. "What about you? There was a pizza when we came in, we went downstairs, came back up, and there's no pizza! Something is running around the house, and you can't even tell that the pan's still burning hot?"

"Okay," Dad said, taking his place behind Mom. "I think you two should get to bed. It's been a long day for all of us." He then felt the pan for himself, and his eyebrows furrowed when he, too, did not feel its heat. "And what's this about sauce on the ceiling?" Josie groaned at her parents inability to see what was in plain sight and grabbed the step-stool. Standing on it, she ran her outstretched finger on the stain. Hopping down, she thrust her finger under Dad's nose, ordering, "Smell." Dad inhaled, but the garlic-y scent that the twins smelt did not affect him. "Smells like your hand sanitizer," he remarked. Zack moaned and whimpered at the same time. Leaving his voice in a nonchalant tone, he said, "I give up. But, if we die tonight, I blame you." And on that happy note, he turned on his heel and marched up to his room. Zack flopped on his bed after changing into pajamas, suddenly feeling drowsy. He was too afraid to sleep, but unconsciousness pulled him under anyways.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Zack abruptly opened his eyes, staring uncomprehendely into the darkness. The yellowish-orange of the streetlight outside streamed into his room, and it was slightly distilled by the rain that was still coming down in buckets. Zack wondered what had made him wake up. Glancing at the glowing green numbers on his digital clock, he realized that he was still wearing his glasses. Why was that? He must've forgotten to take them off when he went to bed. With a chill of untamed fear, he realized that he wasn't alone in his room.

Zack lay very still, hardly daring to breath. Something stared at him through gleaming crimson eyes across his room. Zack was still in the position where he had fallen asleep, lying on his stomach with his limbs bent in awkward angles, his face pointing to where the creature gazed at him. The thing seemed small, as the dim light from its eyes was barely level with Zack's bed. Gosh, Zack thought as he realized he was losing the unofficial staring contest. Doesn't it need to blink?

Zack stealthily slid his hand under his pillow, where a small but powerful flashlight hid. His fingers closed around the small cylinder, and he jerked his muscles, pressing the button that lights it and shining it at the creature. The thing blinked for the first time at the sudden light in its eyes. Zack noticed how its closed eyelids made a vertical line instead if a horizontal one. It had grey skin and slit-like nostrils. This was obviously an alien.

The alien and Zack stared at each other for a total of six-point-three seconds before the alien lifted its hand in the 'Live long and prosper' gesture from Star Trek. For some reason, Zack burst out laughing. It must have been the strain on his nerves that finally broke. Noticing his volume, Zack covered his mouth with his free hand in an attempt to stifle the noise. The alien gave him a puzzled look. Then, the alien bared its teeth in what Zack hoped was an attempt at a friendly smile. Zack noticed the remains of the missing pizza between its teeth. In a voice that was rather shrill and tinny, the alien said, "Nihongo ga wakarimasu?" (Do you understand Japanese?) Zack stared at it. "Espanol? Italiano? Francais?" (Spanish? Italian? French?) Zack didn't respond. The alien listed off a few more languages before asking, "English?" Zack nodded. "English," he repeated. It nodded and its smile widened. "I am Tony. Where is Alfred?"

"Al-Alfred?" Zack stuttered. "Alfred isn't here. Do you know where he lives?" Tony nodded. "Where is 'here'?" Zack replied, "Pennsylvania, America." Tony nodded again. "Tony knows now. Tony will leave now. Goodbye, Earthling." the strange alien said while turning to the door. "Wait!" Zack cried in a whisper. "How did you do that- that stuff? How come only Josie and I were able to hear and see whatever you did?" Tony smiled again, this time mischievously. "Tony like to make young Earthlings feel like they are going mindless. Is good fun."

The small creature closed the door. Its footsteps echoed softly around the silent house until it stopped. A flash of red light leaked under the crack between the closed door and the ground. Zack slumped down onto his pillow and pressed the button to turn off the flashlight. He relaxed his muscles for a few seconds before the door was thrown open again, this time by Josie. Her long hair was loose around her shoulders, hanging on her blue T-shirt. Black sweatpants were hardly visible against the darkness of the hall, making her look like she didn't have legs. Her bare feet contrasted this. "Did you see that? The light?" she asked. "Yep. Tony did it," Zack mumbled, falling asleep quickly. Josie crossed over to his bed and slapped him across the face to try to keep him awake. "Who's Tony?" Zack glared at her through sleepy eyes and replied, "Our uninvited guest. He came through the door, ate our pizza, and made Mom and Dad not notice a thing. He's a little alien-dude who's just looking for a person named Alfred. He left. I'm going to sleep now." With that, Zack pulled the covers over his head and drowsily listened to Josie's irritated sigh and her footsteps out of his room. Within a few minutes, Zack was asleep. The last thing that registered to him was his longing for Tony to never do that again.