I kept the flashlight trained on the thing and as it approached us I smelled dampness, rot, the dead.

Its mouth was locked open as it shambled forward.

I slammed Robby and myself against the wall in order to avoid it.

It rushed past us.

(Because it was sightless and depended on scent—I already knew this.)

I whirled around. Robby was holding on, gripping me fiercely. I started backing away in the opposite direction of where the thing now stood.

It was shuddering again.

The worst thing I noticed was a large eye, haphazardly placed on top and rolling around in its flat, disc-shaped socket involuntarily.

Robby: “Dad what is it what is it what is it?”

The thing stopped in the doorway of the master bedroom—we had traded places—and it began making its mewling sounds again.

I tried hard to stop panicking but I was hyperventilating and my hand holding the flashlight was shaking so badly that I had to use the other hand to steady it and locate the thing in the beam of light.

I steadied my hand and found it.

It was standing still. But something inside it was causing the thing to pulsate. It opened its mouth, which was now coated with froth, and rushed toward us again.

When I turned around I dropped the flashlight, causing Robby to shout out in dismay.

I picked up the flashlight and trained the beam on the thing, which had stopped moving—seemingly confused.

Outside, Victor’s barking became hysterical.

The thing resumed rushing us.

And that’s when I dropped the flashlight again. The bulb cracked, drowning us in darkness as the thing continued rushing toward us.

I grabbed Robby’s sweaty hand and ran to his room and opened the door.

I tripped as I fell into the room, hitting my face against the floor. I felt wetness on my lip.

Robby slammed the door shut and I heard the lock click.

I stood up, wavering in the darkness, and wiped the blood from my mouth. I shouted out when Robby steadied me with a frightened hug.

I listened closely. It was so dark in the room that we were forced to concentrate on the scratching sounds.

Suddenly the scratching subsided.

Robby’s grip on me loosened. I exhaled.

But the relief couldn’t be sustained because there was a cracking noise. It was pushing itself against the door.

I moved to the door. Robby was still holding on to me.

“Robby,” I whispered. “Do you have a flashlight in here? Anything?”

I felt Robby immediately let go of me and heard him move in the direction of his closet.

In the darkness of the room a green light saber appeared. It floated toward me and I took the toy from him. The glow was faint. I aimed the light saber at the door, illuminating it.

“Dad,” Robby whispered, his voice shaky. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” (But even as I said this, I knew what it was.)

The scratching resumed.

I was asking myself: What is it scratching with?

And then I realized it wasn’t scratching. (I remembered something.)

It had never been scratching.

It was gnawing at the door. It was using its mouth. It was using its teeth.

And then the gnawing stopped.

Robby and I stared at the door, which was now bathed in green.

And we watched in horror as the doorknob began to twist back and forth.

In a sickening flash I understood that it was using its mouth to accomplish this.

I had to remind myself to breathe again when the doorknob rattled violently.

There was a snarling sound. It was the noise of frustration. It was the noise of hunger.

And then it stopped. We could hear the thing dragging itself away.

“What is it? What does it want? I don’t understand. How did it get in?” This was Robby.

“I don’t know what the hell it is,” I was saying absurdly.

“What is it, Dad?”

“I don’t know I don’t know I don’t—”

(Note: This was not technically true.)

Our moaning was cut off by the sound of Sarah screaming. “Mommy! Mommy! It’s getting me!”

I rushed through the bathroom and into Sarah’s room. In the instant before I grabbed her off the bed I waved the light saber over the scene.

Sarah was backed up against the headboard as the thing attempted to pull itself onto her bed. It had fastened its mouth over one of the bedposts and it was moving frantically and squealing.

“What’s happening?” Robby was screaming this from inside the bathroom.

I shouted out in disgust and grabbed Sarah off the bed. As I carried her toward the bathroom, the thing froze and then leapt onto the floor and I could hear it rushing toward us.