[A pair of blue eyes emerges from the darkness of the doorway, and an old man, Horace Nebbercracker, stomps onto the porch.]
Nebbercracker: Oh, get off my lawn! [Eliza screams and tries to peddle away, but her tricycle is still stuck as Nebbercracker storms up to her] Trespasser, do you want to be eaten alive?!
Eliza: [fearfully looks up at him and shakes her head] No.
Nebbercracker: [points down the street as he yells again] Then get out of here! [Eliza screams, dismounts her tricycle and runs away, then stops and glances back at her tricycle]
Eliza: My trike. [Nebbercracker promptly picks up the tricycle, rips the front wheel off, and glares at Eliza with a snarl; Eliza runs away crying]
Nebbercracker: Stay away from my house! [he coughs, then begrudgingly turns and carries the dismantled tricycle back to his house]

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when I visited Mr. Nebbercracker's house. Rumors said he could crack walnuts with a single squeeze and that his voice could crack glass. Approaching the creaky, cracked gate, I saw him on his porch, cracking walnuts. I pulled out my bag of cracked pepper, a special blend I had made myself. "Mr. Nebbercracker!" I called, my voice cracking with nerves.

He looked at me with eyes that seemed to crack open secrets. Standing up, the old boards of his porch cracking under his weight, he walked over. Taking the bag, he cracked it open and inspected the pepper. Then, with a swift motion, he tossed some into his mouth. His face cracked into a wide grin. "Well, I'll be cracked! This is some mighty fine pepper!"

He began telling stories, each filled with cracks of excitement and danger. Every so often, he cracked another walnut. As I left, the sound of cracking walnuts lingered in my ears, and I felt ready to crack open the future.