Terror in the Closet
The night the dresser spit the drawers out, spewing socks and underwear all over my darkened bedroom was enough to scare the beejezus from me. But it was the following night that I came totally unglued. ‘Careful Robert,’ Mrs. Bellman had warned me, wagging an aged digit at my face while snatching the first month’s rent from my open palm. ‘Things have been known to happen here…’ punctuating the word happen as if it were some sort of secret that she wasn’t supposed to let on. Taking the...