[ WP ] There 's something odd about the door-to-door salesman standing on your porch .

Gabe was awakened by a loud, singular thud downstairs. Gabe's house may have been as old as he felt, and just as rickety, but she never lied. Someone was at the door. At this hour, miles from the nearest city. He grumbled out of bed and made his way for the stairs. 
 
 The door was struck again. A single knock, hard enough to make the door frame groan. 
 
 `` Those goddamn mormons do n't understand no from horse shit,'' Gabe forced through clenched teeth, as he shuffled across the living room. He limped over to the eyehole and peered through. Before him stood a man in a suit. A suit of even better quality than that rich smuck they passed off as a pastor in town, he thought. He stood perfectly straight and did not move, smiling as if his face were pulled back by bungie cords. There was something off about this one. He clearly needed the good lord's grace. 
 
 `` Hell you want ass past 2am, boy? Do n't cha think -- -'' 
 
 `` Good morning, Gabriel,'' the stranger interrupted. 
 
 Gabe paused. His memory was n't what it used to be, but he was certain he had never met this wackjob before. 
 
 `` You from the govermnent er something?'' 
 
 The impeccably dressed man just continued to smile, without uttering a single word. Gabe had to have been tired, because he did n't remember seeing the man blink either. He just stood there. Smiling. Staring. 
 
 Gabe limped over to the grandfather clock and fetched his hunting rifle from the compartment. 
 
 `` You hard of hearing, son? I asked if you were a man of the state, and evidently you ai n't. I do n't want cher wares, your words, or your company.'' 
 
 He continued to smile. Unblinking. He slowly cocked his head to the side and appraised Gabriel through the eyehole. His face was pale. Too pale. His hair too perfect. Like the hair of a doll a little girl would play with. Waxen. Lifeless. Immutable. 
 
 `` Do you miss her, Gabriel?'' The man suddenly inquired. Ice water ran through Gabriel's chest. He fumbled with the door locks as fast as he could, and flung the door open. His hunting rifle mere centimeters away from the man's pallid forehead. The eyehole did not reveal how tall he was. Gabriel began to speak, but suddenly realized how wrong the situation was. He was in control... But not in control. It made no sense. 
 
 The smiling man did not flinch. He did not move, fidget, or even react. He just stared. His face pertrified in an unending smile, apparently unburdened by the loaded rifle trained on his skull. His chest did not swell or fall. There were no goosebumps from the chill of night. No saliva from his still bare teeth. His eyes did not tear up. His eyes never swayed. 
 
 It was wrong. All of it terribly, unnaturally wrong. Gabriel stepped backwards, and in unison, the smiling man stepped foward. Gabriel lowered his gun. He knew firing would solve nothing. The man before him was already dead, and he had no intention of provoking whatever was pulling at the strings. 

