Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

stepped onto the threshold, looking out into the dark backyard where the shadows of the maple trees stretched across the grass. Greg had indeed left it unlocked, the deadbolt completely disengaged.

I pulled the heavy wood door shut, turned the brass lock until it clicked, and then slid the deadbolt firmly into the strike plate, securing my house against continue reading …