I reviewed the file as I approached the door. Age 12 years? That must be a mistake; we never go after them more than 8.

"Jerry, you sure this is the right kid? He's almost a teenager."

Jerry shrugged four of his shoulders. "I double checked it. Technically his screams will work too. They must be getting desperate for doors if we're going after this demographic though."

I quickly glanced through the rest of the information and room layout. Probably best to go with a simple "Peak and 'Eek.'" For you non-scarers out there, it's a more cautious approach whereby I slowly open the door after applying some rusting spray to get that perfect eerie creak. I stay in the shadows so that he can only see my eyes, and then just when his curiosity is about to get the better of him, I lunge forward and scare the living daylights out of him. It's a classic.

The door was plain and white, but there was something off. There were scratches on it. Deep ones down to the wood, with some flecks of red. "What the... Hey Jerry, what's with this door?"

"Who cares? Just get in and get the screams and get out, man. We've got a quota to meet."

Jerry was right. 12 year olds get scared too. Some even more so with those crazy hormones running around their brains. I loosened my shoulders and stepped inside. The closet was pretty dark, I could see a flickering light from outside through the slats. Perfect; that's why they'd assigned this one to me. The little sucker still slept with a night light! That would really accentuate my horns while I lurked. They are my best feature, you know.

I misted the hinges slightly and opened the door just an inch or so. It let out the perfect, ominous creak. Excellent. I gave it a gentle shove then shrank back, allowing myself to be enveloped by the shadows.

The first thing I noticed was the candles. Five of them, arranged in a star. Not a nightlight, I realized. Crap. They were tall and black, dripping wax onto the boring white carpet; that would be hard to clean.

The next thing I noticed was the blood. That would be even harder to clean. It glistened ominously in the candle light. I don't know how I knew what it was, but I was instantly sure. 100% definitely blood, drawn into runes in the center of a pentagram.

I stepped forward out of the closet, trying to get a better look. Just get the screams and get out, I told myself. No need to figure out what's wrong with this kid. Just find him, roar, and get out of here.

Above me, I noticed the source of the blood: a disembowled cat, hanging from the light fixture on a silver chain. Its face was frozen into a permanent expression of pain and suffering. Clotting blood crusted its formerly orange fur. Oh god, I thought. They sent me to another monster's room.

Cold metal circled my writst, and I heard the click of the handcuffs locking into place. "You're exactly what I wanted," a voice whispered into my ear, and blood-soaked hands stroked my horns. I let out a high, shrill, girlish squeal so loud it would have shattered ear drums.

"Perfect, we got it!" I heard Jerry call out. "Come on home!"

Then the closet door closed behind me, and I was trapped in this world.