ToolboxCorey lugged his father’s heavy toolbox up the stairs, panting heavily.Toolbox16 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Dad! I got your junk box!” That’s what his dad called it, due to his tendencies to shove the leftovers of his projects inside. It was full to bursting with old nails, washers, and screws that never seemed to be of any use. He paused at the entrance to the basement in confusion. His father always answered when he called. Maybe he can’t hear you, a little voice suggested from the back of his mind. Corey slowly made his way to the upper floor, where his door had to be replaced. “Dad?” He dropped the toolbox at the landing. His father’s tools- or what he’d had at the time- were scattered across the floor, the man himself notably absent. A chill went down Corey’s spine as he knelt next to his door. “Dad! Where are you?” Someone behind him chuckled.
“Well, this is cute.” He whirled around just as the man behind him clenched both his fist