His trench coat was full of filth; hard times and sleepless nights lay upon it. His boots were torn with years of struggle and thick layers of un-wiped mud from the many miles he had walked. Hatred, betrayal, and disgust were in his heart, for he had battled with the arms of life and landed in the hands of a bitter reality. He was mad at everything and everybody, and at this point would do just about anything. He looked at the world, viewed its complexity, and saw the eyes of a desperate man staring back at him. He unlocked the front door and went inside, now an uninvited guest in a strangers' home. The atmosphere was slightly damp and somewhat eerie as he stood silently in the hallway. Tired and apprehensive, he took one step at a time trying to find his way through the thick layers of pitch black. Malone was his name and mischief was his game. Malone stared for a moment while biting the scabbed flesh from his bottom lip. He mumbled something harmful under his breath as he took a few steps back into the hallway. Into the kitchen he went. Malicious Malone was furious, he was not thinking straight. He grabbed the biggest knife he saw and slowly made his way back down the hallway toward the bedrooms in devious terror....... Mrs. Jones went into the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. Malone was kneeling down unseen on the far side of the kitchen counter....... Malone got up and quietly followed behind her. With her back turned toward the door, she had no idea Malicious Malone was standing in the doorway looking right at her. Malone could hear every word they spoke and find out every little secret. He learned about Mr. Jones deep secret that no one knew about. He knew when they were asleep and even when they were awake. Malone might be able to stay here for a long time. Or could he? This is no ordinary man in the attic story. A very twisted tail I present to you The Attic