The butler of Crenshaw Manor struck fear into every child’s heart. Every child, that is, except for my brother. Mr. Creep, as the town kids called him, was a tall and imposing figure. His features were stone, he never smiled, and we could hear him coming from a mile away. His left leg dragged behind, scraping the ground. No one knew how he got his bad leg, but every time us kids heard the scrape that announced his near presence, we scrambled. We ducked behind walls or bushes, some bravely peering out before losing their nerve and crouching back down.

My brother Caleb, however, was a mighty hero to the other kids. He was known as the bravest of all. Caleb never hid when Mr. Creep came our way. He stood near a wall in plain sight, staring Mr. Creep down. Half the time Creep ignored him and half the time he glared coldly. I was never anything like my brother; I hid each time. In our case, being twins didn’t make us similar.

After Mr. Creep had passed, all the kids would rush out and clamor around Caleb, praising him to the heavens. Caleb basked in his glory, soaking in as much as he could. Only I hung back. I did not worship my brother like the others. I did not see why he was so wonderful. In truth, I was a bit jealous. I wished I could be as brave as Caleb, but I have always been the weaker one. The one no one looked to for answers or asked for opinions. I went through my entire life in Caleb’s shadow. I loved my brother, but sometimes I resented him as well. He was so confident, so sure of himself. I was the complete opposite.

Then, on a hot summer day in July, Caleb did something so stupid that I could hardly fathom it. 

At mid-day, once Mr. Creep had passed by and all the children were crowded around him, Caleb said, “While Mr. Creep is in town I’m going to sneak into Crenshaw Manor and bring something back to prove it.” Silence fell. I guess everyone else was wondering if he was actually that stupid. That's certainly what I was thinking.

My heart sank as he smiled at me and added, “Maggie will come with me.” I shook my head and glared, but Caleb only nodded encouragingly.

Now all the others were cheering us on. I couldn’t back out or I would be branded as a coward until the end of time.

So, we went. Crenshaw Manor was located a mile outside of the town borders. The entire walk there I imagined awful scenarios and painful ways to die. Caleb whistled jauntily, grating my already frayed nerves. The other kids tagged along until the end of the long driveway. When we were on our own, Caleb continued to swing his arms and walk with a grin on his irritating face.

He wasn’t frightened at all. To him, this was a game, something to earn him celebrity status with his friends and laugh about later. Sure, there was a risk of trouble if we were caught. We were stealing after all, but he didn’t care. Life and fear was a game to my brother. I, on the other hand, was trembling in my worn-out tennis shoes. I was convinced we were about to die a horrible and painful death.

Crenshaw Manor was glamorous. Five stories tall and immaculate down to the smallest detail. For a moment, Caleb and I could only stare, mouths dropping open in shock. We had never seen anything so amazing. All of us from town were poor, most barely getting by. This was beyond belief. We had never seen the manor before. It was located outside of town and, until now, all the kids had been too afraid to come near it.

“What if the Crenshaw’s are home?” I was grasping at straws now. I knew exactly what Caleb would say.

He did'nt disappoint, “Are you joking? Everyone knows the Crenshaw’s are hardly ever home. They’re probably off touring Europe or whatever it is they do all year.”

He was right. Mr. and Mrs. Crenshaw were rarely home. When they were in town, they were aloof. They acted like they were better than us because of their vast hoards of money. They would stick around for a week or two, then leave on another adventure, leaving Mr. Creep to watch over the manor. No one ever saw the Crenshaw’s come or go. One morning, when the town awoke, they would be there. And then, when the town went to sleep again, they were gone without a trace, only to reappear a few months later.

There had always been an air of mystery surrounding Crenshaw Manor. Nobody knew how they made their money, but they seemed to have piles of it. They bought the best clothes, threw the most fabulous parties-although us town folks were never invited. And yet, the only hired help they allowed was Mr. Creep. It was a mystery all right, and my 

brother was determined to crack it.

I knew my brother, and I knew that there was no talking him out of this. The best I could do was tag along and keep him out of trouble until he was satisfied.

At the large, ornate oak door, Caleb hesitated. It was the first sign of weakness I had seen and I jumped on it. “Come on,” I begged, “This is far enough. It’s probably locked anyway.”

Caleb turned to me, all signs of hesitation gone, “Quit being such a baby Maggie. It’s just an old man and he isn’t even here.” He grabbed the gold handle, sucked in his breath, and turned.

It opened.

Caleb pushed the door inward and pulled me in after him. What I saw was the most beautiful sight I had ever laid eyes on. Polished wooden floors, sparkling glass chandeliers, a golden staircase and a ceiling higher than I had ever imagined. There were satin couches and golden picture frames. All were elements of a dream, it seemed. There was more wealth displayed in this one room than I had thought even existed.

Caleb was just as awestruck. We stood there for a full minute before Caleb remembered that we weren’t here to gawk and steered me towards the next room.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed incredulously, “We’re here. Grab something from this room and let’s go.” I tried yanking him back but he was too strong for me.

“Seriously?” We were in the kitchen now. Long knives glinted from racks beside the porcelain sink and polished metal pots gleamed above. “That’s way too easy. It’s got to be a bit more challenging.”

You are a stupid, reckless oaf, I almost said aloud. I couldn’t believe it! More challenging? How stubborn and idiotic could a thirteen year old be? He was going to get us into a lot of trouble, and when we were arrested for trespassing, Dad was not going to be happy.

Apparently the kitchen wasn’t challenging enough for my brother either, because he dragged me back towards the stairs. When we started to climb, our footsteps echoing loudly, I would have complained, but by this point I had realized that I wouldn’t change his mind.

The railing was golden and smooth. I ran my hand along it in awe. Everything here was so expensive! One painting probably cost as much as my house! At the top we were faced with a long hallway that seemingly went on forever. Doors lined each side. They were made of dark oak with a silver doorknob. Each one was the same.

Just as we started forward, we heard the front door open and then close a moment later. Caleb turned to me. Finally, there was panic in his eyes.

Steps sounded below us. A tap followed by a slow drag. It was the butler!

“Hide!” I hissed. I grabbed Caleb’s hand, as he seemed frozen and incapable of movement. 

I pulled him to the nearest door on the right, praying it wasn’t locked.

It worked!

I shoved my brother inside, not even bothering to see what was there or what that strange salty smell was. I followed and quietly closed the door. I placed my ear to the oak.

Muffled sounds were coming up the stairs, closer.

“M-Maggie,” Caleb stammered.

“Shhh.”

The steps stopped right outside the door.

“M-M-Maggie.”

I turned to Caleb in annoyance. He stood rigid at my side, pointing across the room. My eyes followed his finger.

The doorknob turned behind me.

There was no back wall where there should have been.

There was an ocean.

The carpet faded to sand five feet away, and beyond that was a large expanse of water. 

Seagulls flew overhead. Crabs scuttled beneath.

It was the most wonderful, terrifying thing I had ever seen.

“Hey!” yelled a voice behind me.

Suddenly Caleb and I were yanked backwards by our shirts into the dim hallway.

The door slammed shut behind us, leaving us to face the butler of Crenshaw Manor.

He towered over us, at least six and a half feet tall. His beard and eyes were gray, matching his expensive suit. And he was glaring.

“What do you two punks think you’re doing?” His voice was harsh, full of scarcely-contained anger.

I remembered the rumors about Mr. Creep. Every kid knew them by heart. Supposedly Mr. Creep had murdered his wife and children. Supposedly he still walked around with an ax hidden in his belt.

I didn’t see an ax, but thinking of those stories caused me to freeze. “Mr. C-“ I tried to say, “Mr. C-C-C-“

“Spit it out girl!” He roared.

Caleb stepping in, “Excuse us Mr. Creep, but-“ He didn’t get any further.

Mr. Creep laughed.

A deep, throaty laugh.

Stunned, Caleb stopped talking. We both gaped in disbelief. What was going on?

Mr. Creep spoke, still fighting laughter, “Is that what you kids are calling me these days? Mr. Creep?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” Caleb stuttered.

“No, no,” the butler said, “I like it. Ten years ago, the kids called my Mr. Limpy. Creep is much more original.”

He was still smiling. The coldness of his eyes had been replaced by humor and…was that kindness? He continued, “So, what are you doing here?”

“Well, sir,” Caleb seemed to have gotten over his fear. I was beginning to as well. 

“Everybody in town is afraid of you. But I’m not,” He puffed out his skinny chest and beamed, “and I came here to prove it.”

“How?”

“We were going to take something to show the others.”

“You were going to steal?”

“Um…”

“He,” I emphasized, “He was going to steal. I didn’t want to.” Caleb glared at me, but I didn’t care. I still wasn’t entirely convinced that we were not about to die painfully.

“Well,” Creep smiled playfully, “I’m sure there is something we could spare.”

“What was that?” Caleb pointed behind us, “In the room?”

“Oh, I suppose now that you’ve seen it I can’t very well keep it a secret, can I?”

We shook our heads.

He gestured down the long hallway, “Each of these doors leads to somewhere around the world.”

“Seriously!”

“Like magic?” I asked.

“Yes, like magic.”

“Wow,” we both said.

“Would you like to see?”

“Yes!” Caleb started forward.

“Um,” I hesitated, “Why are you showing us?”

“Well, it gets rather lonely around here with the Crenshaw’s always gone. It might be nice to have someone to share it with.” He patted me on the shoulder. I smiled.

We started down the hall to inspect the magical doors.

“Oh,” the butler looked at us, “my real name is Jonathan.”

The doors worked just as he said they would. Throughout the years, Caleb and I went on to have many adventures with Jonathan. We visited him every week and became close friends. But those adventures are another story.

After a long day at work I finally sat down, curled up to a good book. I had only been sitting there for 5-10 minutes, however, when I heard a sound coming from the back of the house. Perplexed (I rarely have visitors- and never in the back), I set my book down on the coffee table, using a handy piece of scrap paper to mark my place.

I made my way to the back warily. The sound returned. Now a pounding on glass. This time it was accompanied by shouts. Once there, I saw Robby through the glass door. He was pounding with all his strength, using both fists. Tears streamed down his face. I couldn’t even imagine what was wrong.

I opened the door, ready to yell at him for interrupting my night. As soon as the door was wide enough, Robby shrieked and pushed his way into my house, knocking me down. “Dude!” I yelled angrily. “What gives?”

“Run!” Robby scrambled off of me. Upon closer inspection, I saw that Robby’s shirt was covered in dark blood. His green eyes were scared and wild- a look of desperation. His expensive jeans were ripped and his shoes were scuffed beyond repair.

My first thought was, ‘Wow. It must be pretty bad if Robby let anything mess up his clothes.’ On a normal day, he would kill anyone who so much as touched them.

That was before I realized just how bad it was.

Robby saw the open door and screeched. I swear. This grown man, my best friend, who I have never heard even yell at a haunted house, screeched like a five-year-old girl who had just dropped her ice cream cone on the sidewalk. No, more as if the ice cream cone had morphed into a demon.

He then leaped over me and grabbed the handle, yanking it closed. But before it could shut all the way, a hand shot out of the dark, gripping the edge. This time we both screamed. The hand was pale, spattered with thick blood and covered in thin cuts. It was missing the ring finger. There were bits of flesh stuck underneath the remaining four nails.

I scooted back away from the door. Horror clouded my vision, my brain trying to come up with ways this could be happening, other than the obvious answer. Zombies aren’t real. I repeated this phrase over and over to myself but could no longer believe it.

Finally, Robby succeeded in closing and locking the door. And then the face appeared. A grotesque, grinning horror of a face.

It was a man, that much was obvious. His lips were peeled back, revealing swollen gums and gore-speckled nubs. His hair had been torn out in clumps, leaving bald patches and angry red spots.

And his eyes.

Haunted, insane…hungry.

Hungrier than I have ever seen anyone in my life. A hunger that consumed. A hunger for…me.

This person-no, this thing- moaned. He moaned and my heart stopped. It was a groan of pure desire. Pure desire for food. For blood. For brains. For me and my friend.

Robby grabbed my arm, yanked me upright, and forced me out of the kitchen, towards the stairs. “Mandy come on. We have to hide.”

Before we left though, I saw the shuffling figures behind my glass. All of them getting closer and closer. Coming for me.

My secret?

Well, if I told you, it would no longer be a secret

Just know, that my secret is not my own,

But that of a friend

Shared in confidence,

And a promise never to reveal

What I now know.

The inner thoughts of another should not be given away,

With a promise never to tell,

Because now I, too, have a secret,

A secret that tears me up inside,

Whereas before I had none

At least...none worth mentioning.