Though I may seem terrible now, I was once young and carefree like you. There
was an event in my youth that scared me so deeply, it turned me into the monster
I am today.

In the town of Anitaville where I once lived, there was a very quiet, nice
and seemingly lonely old man named Kyle whom I would often see. I
would see him food shopping alone, slowly and carefully; I would see
him at the post office, checking his empty Post Office box for mail; I
would see him eating dinner alone at the local diner, without a book or
newspaper to keep him company. I would always politely say hello and
he’d force a smile. Then, we’d part ways.

The only time the old man had a spark of life in him was when two children,
who I assumed to be his grandchildren, would visit every year around the
holidays. He would take them around town with him, a young boy holding
his right hand and a young girl holding his left.

The children looked like twins, beautiful blonde carbon copies of each other,
with the saddest smiles I had ever seen. They were reminiscent of the sadness
I saw on the old man’s face when he was without them.

Despite their melancholy auras, the children were wide-eyed and amazed,
always excited about their grandfather’s world and touching everything: the
silky haired dogs that would stroll by on the street, the rough brick of the old
court house on Main street, and even the grass in the park. These curious,
sad children seemed to make the old man’s life light up.

I worked for the gas company. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but I was good at
what I did, and I was able to be out on the town for my work day, reading
meters and making house calls. On a particular day in the spring, I drove up
to a modest house on Raybourne Street to do a regular check of the house’s meter.

I knocked on the front door of the house, and after a long pause, the cracking,
peeling door slowly opened. I saw Kyle standing in the doorway, holding the
hands of his two grandchildren as always. I recognized the children immediately,
but thought it strange they were visiting during the summer. I smiled brightly and
said hello, making a small joke for the sake of the children and asking for access
to the man’s basement to read his meter.

The old man tensed up when he heard my request. The children just stared at me
the entire time, their white blond hair shining and their blue eyes oddly lifeless.
I especially noticed the children’s arms, which did not seem normal.

The man sternly told me to return the next day to see the meter. He was busy
working in the basement and couldn’t be bothered to shut down his shop for
a simple meter reading. I agreed, and the children continued to stare at me as
their grandfather closed the door. I thought I faintly heard the sound of a baby
crying as I walked down the front stairs.

To save time, I decided to see if I could view the meter through the basement
window in the man’s back yard.

So as not to bother him, I quickly crept around back and bent down to peer
through the basement windows hidden behind bushes. To my surprise, I saw
his two grandchildren sitting at a large table, one of them reading from a book,
and one pouring liquid into test tubes.

How could they be down in the basement absorbed in whatever they were doing,
when I had seen them seconds before at the front door?

With no meter in sight, I pressed my face against the glass to see deeper into
the basement. The entire house smelled like baby powder. Just then, Kyle
came down the stairs, still holding the hands of his two grandchildren. Now,
as I peered horrified into the basement window, I saw two sets of twins who
were identical.

The man immediately put to work the two twins he had brought down into the
basement. It seemed they were doing scientific experiments, and all four children
were lifeless and stiff. They didn’t seem like normal children.

I pushed open the old basement window a crack so I could see a little further into
the dark room, and what I found was ……. creepy, to say the least.

There were two giant cages, one on each side of the basement, each filled with
children. About 20 girls, all identical to the children I had seen before with their
wind colored hair and blank eyes, were standing still in a cage on the left. On the
right, about 20 blonde, sad boys were standing in a similar cage.

Above the girls’ cage was a sign that read “Eve,” above the boys’, “Adam.”

As I stared, horrified, at the caged children, they all perked up slightly at the
same time as if they could feel my horrified gaze on their backs. Then, entirely
in unison, all 40 children turned slowly around, raised their little heads, and
moved their eyes up towards the window where I was spying. 80 eyes met mine
with the same blank, innocent stare in every one of their dark gazes.

Kyle, aware of the distraction his children had found, paused. After a long
second, he jerked his head and made eye contact with me.

THE END