The Reverend and Gloria.

Who could be knocking?

When I woke up later that morning, I barely remembered the sounds from upstairs that had disturbed my sleep hours before. This time I awoke to a slight knocking on my door.

Who could be knocking at this hour?

I unwillingly dragged myself out of bed and walked towards the door.

“Who is it?” I called, but got no answer.

I waited a few more seconds. Still no answer. Finally I decided to open the door. I reached for the doorknob, twisting and pulling it open.

Much to my surprise, there was someone standing outside my door but all I really saw of him was his back. He was rushing the other way and by the time I reacted was already almost to the stairwell. He turned for a brief moment as our eyes locked, but then took off up the stairs.

I was not about to let him get away, so I followed, sliding across the floor in my socks as I hurried after him. When I arrived on the 3rd floor, he was gone. Just like that.

But wait…

I noticed one door that had been left ajar and immediately went to it. I stood in the doorway of the flat, and sure enough, I had come to the right place. He was cowering in a corner of the dingy room among cluttered piles of glass bottles that had once likely contained booze.

It was almost as if the fact that I had chased him down had intimidated him.

“Who are you?!” He hissed with a malevolent sneer, looking up at me for the first time.

The first thing I noticed about him was a large, unsightly scar that stretched across his face. My mind was immediately filled with questions about how it had gotten there. He glared as he waited for a response. Judging by the look I was being given he was unsure of how I would react.

“My name is Gloria,” I stated bluntly.

“Well, my little Gloria," he said lazily as he stood up to face me, "I am The Reverend, but you can call me Rev.”