 The ringing doorbell was harsh in the quiet night. I glanced at the time on my phone, 10pm. Why would someone be ringing the doorbell now? I slid my finger across the screen and pulled up my camera app, peering through the doorbell camera. There was no one there. As I watched the camera, a notification popped up and a melodic sound cut through the air. Doorbell alert. Someone had rung it again. There was no one there, though, at least not on the camera. My hands were slightly shaking as I stood and started towards the doorway. I already had a nervous temperament, but things like this always made it worse. I'm sure it's something innocent, something wrong with the camera system. I hope so, at least. I walked towards the front door and peered through the peephole. To my surprise, there were two young children, a boy and a girl, standing on the porch They were heavily disheveled, wearing stained and dirty clothes torn and hanging from their body. The doorbell rang once more while I was standing there. I pulled the door open and squatted down. Hey, what are you doing out so late? Everything okay? Where are your parents? The two kids seemed to stare at me without registering what I was saying. We sat there frozen in time until the boy spoke up. May we come inside? We've had a rough night and it's freezing out here. He sounded polite and well spoken, especially for someone that looked like they went through something traumatic. Now that I had a closer look, I could see the little girl had her hand on her neck, pressing a cloth down. Yeah, yeah, of course. Come on in and get warm. I moved out of the way and both children walked by slowly, keeping pace with one another as they entered my home. They seemed to know where they were going because they went straight into the living room and sat on the couch. I followed behind and sat across from them. Let's start again. My name's Andy. What are your names? I gestured to them, encouraging them to continue speaking. The girl still had a plain look on her face. No reaction to my words. My gaze was drawn back towards the boy as he spoke. My name's Frederick and my companion, my friend here, is named Margaret. We got a little lost tonight. Just need some time inside to warm up and then we'll be on our way. He seemed strangely calm as his eyes pierced into mine, staring directly at me as he spoke with confidence. Where are your parents, Frederick? It's pretty late for children as young as you two. Do you know their phone numbers? A look of annoyance briefly crossed his face, twisting it into an ugly snarl before it was gone and he had a calm smile once more. Perhaps I imagined his reaction. It was late even for me and I was already pretty tired. Nothing to worry about. We're quite mature for our age. Our guardians, our parents would not worry about us. Just let us rest and we will bother you no more. His smile was weirdly serene. He was seemingly unbothered by the fact that they were in a stranger's home wearing dirty and torn clothing. This late at night, I tried to focus, but I found myself staring at his piercing blue eyes and fatigue clouded my brain. I shook my head and tried to continue the conversation. Can I get you something to drink at least? Would you like something, Margaret? She's fine. She needs nothing from you. I will take some wine if you have it, preferably Bordeaux. I tried not to chuckle as I responded, a small smile on my face. You are funny, aren't you? How about I make some hot chocolate for everyone? I'll be right back. I walked away to the kitchen before he could say another word. I laughed internally at the thought of such a young child drinking wine. I guess he figured it didn't hurt to ask. I pulled out the pitcher I used to make hot chocolate, a simple white appliance with a small blender in the bottom and poured in the mix with some milk. With the press of the button, it was quietly warring away. I could hear soft spoken words coming from the living room, but couldn't make out the context. It was clear that the girl was speaking now. I went back to the living room entrance and saw that she'd lifted away the cloth from her neck. There was deep red blood staining the fabric. Her neck was red and raw, a large slit slowly weeping as blood dripped down her neck. He had the cloth held up to his face. His eyes closed as he seemed to sniff at the fabric. I slowly backed away and re-entered the kitchen. Something was off. They were already weird for children, but this was just wrong. I could feel it deep in my gut and decided I needed help. I felt sick as I tried to think about what to do next. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. A pleasant female voice rapidly answered it, 911, how may I help you? Yes, I had two young children, a boy and a girl show up at my house tonight. The girl has an injury to her neck. I need the police here right away. I think the boy heard her and they ran away from home. As I told the operator more information, I heard a sudden hissing sound behind me. I spun around and saw that the children were in the kitchen with me. The boy had a hideous face. He looked furious. His face startled me, and I dropped the phone, the last bit of conversation fading away as it bounced to the floor. How old are the children? We'll be sending paramedics with the police. Can you confirm the address? The quiet voice emitting from the phone was interrupted by the sharp tones of the boy. You shouldn't have done that. I wasn't interested in you. I have Margaret already. I was confused. My mind felt clouded by more than just fatigue now. It took all my energy to say a simple sentence out loud. I'm just getting you help. I saw the wound on her neck and was concerned. That's all. The police will be able to help you better than me. The boy's eyes were piercing mine once more, swirling blue pools that reminded me of the ocean. I was losing focus, and I couldn't seem to concentrate. I could barely focus on the words he spoke next. Come down here, Andy. I have something to show you. I couldn't stop myself. I felt compelled to move forward and kneel in front of him. I was now staring face to face with him as he began to smile. He opened his mouth, and I saw that his teeth were stained red, a rotting smell coming from his throat. I wanted to gag, but I couldn't move. He slowly raised his hand in front of my face, seemingly ordinary, until he grabbed his fingers with his other hand. A sickening crunch filled the air as he broke his fingers off, exposing the shining bone of the middle joint of each finger. He'd spurred it onto my face as I stared at him, frozen and motionless. He started to laugh as each of the bones began to grow, lengthening and rotating into sharp spikes. My heart was pounding in my head. It felt like a migraine that I could not escape. I watched onward, feeling a vile acid burn the bottom of my throat as he held the tips of his fingers out towards the girl. Her eyes widened, and she jutted her head down towards his open hand. I could hear crunching and sucking sounds as she ate each of the fingertips from his palm. He continued to laugh as he started to tickle my throat with his fingers. I told you, Andy. We didn't need any help, outside of just wanting to get warm for a bit. We would have just left if he hadn't called anyone. I could feel a small dribble of blood slowly trailing down my neck from where one of the bones had scratched me. His eyes widened at the side of the blood and he began to lick his lips, his blood stained teeth clacking together loudly. He seemed exhilarated as he started to pull me close, moving his mouth to the small stream. Suddenly, he froze as his eyes darted away, the sounds of sirens filling the empty night, flashing lights shining through the edges of curtains. He sighed and he let me go. It seems you're lucky tonight, Andy. We're interrupted. Another time then. I look forward to seeing you in the future. He had a slight grin as he lifted the girl into his arms, carrying her as if they were freshly married. The girl had a giddy smile on her face as fresh blood stained the edges of her mouth. He disappeared out of sight and I could feel my mind clearing once again. I grabbed my neck to clamp down on the wound, but realized it was only a tiny scratch. My head hurt worse than anything. Still pounding is my breathing calmed down. I didn't know what to tell the police when I finally answered the door. I think they thought I was drunk. I showed police the camera footage and alerts, but they seemed more annoyed than concerned. I could have sworn that as they turned off their flashing lights, I could see two pairs of eyes staring at me from the dark, a couple of houses down. I didn't know what else to do. I decided to attack one of the officers, hoping to just go to jail. And I got my wish. The resulting struggle placed me in custody for the night for being intoxicated. I've been staying in a motel on the other side of town since I was released. I'm trying to find some ways to get my belongings and sell my house without returning. My funds are draining, though, as I waste time scared and helpless in what to do next. What scares me the most is what I saw on TV while trying to distract myself. A little girl who'd been kidnapped in the past week. A little girl named Margaret.