Elliot leaned against the wall next to his parent’s bedroom as he listened to the thunder’s decay. It was a long and slow rumble, but it gave him time to regain his composure. He shifted his sister to his other arm as another flash of lightning lit up the house and was followed by two loud thuds. They sounded different from thunderclaps in this storm, they weren’t as harsh or long.  Elliot’s heart raced; there could be hundreds of possibilities of what could have made those noises. What if there was a robber in the house, he thought, or perhaps it was that puppy his mom promised him running amok.

Holding onto the puppy idea Elliot opened the door to his mother’s bedroom slowly, so if there was a dog it couldn’t escape. He opened it only a crack at first and listened for that pitter-patter sound he so desperately wanted to hear. Instead he heard a slow, rhythmic creaking coming through the crack in the door. He opened the door enough so he could poke his head through.

“Mom?” he asked, but the only reply was the rhythmic creaking sound.

Elliot opened the door a little wider “Mom I’m coming in now.”

Elliot stood in the doorway as he gently pushed the door open. The door’s creaking grew louder, and Elliot’s eyes opened wide with terror as he saw the source of the noise. His mother was hanging from the ceiling rafter with a rope tied around her neck. There was a small wooden stepping stool toppled over at her feet.  It had a deep crevasse carved into the top, and several colored wooden blocks that were in the shaped to spell his name, lay scattered on the floor.

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