I walked up the broken pathway towards the black house, the only house for at least 5 miles around. The stairs up to the giant doors creaked as I hesitantly walked up to the iron lion door knocker.

The ancient door creaked open, even as my heavy knocks echoed inside of the dilapidated house.

“And who, pray, are you…?”

I looked around inside the murky house, trying to see who had spoken.

“Down here!” a sharp voice said.

A small man dressed in a fancy suit, handkerchief in pocket, stood at his full height of 2 feet, and addressed me again.

“Again, I ask, who are you?”

I looked down at his small frame, and I was suddenly, inexplicably frightened.

“I’m Mr. Hunght, and I—”

“What is your business at Bloed Manor, sir?”

I forced my fears into the back of my head, put on my best smile and started, “Mr. Bloed. What you see here is the best, the finest cleaning fluid you will ever see. You can’t get this in stores anywhere, and I know all your neighbors will just be…”