Don't pay attention to the grammar and what not, last i knew this was
in between a rough and a final draft.

He slipped out of his door quietly in a desperate attempt to bypass
the probing questions of the old Italian hag that was his landlord. He
looked behind him at the closed door of the hag's office-...he moved
silently over the old creaky floorboards of the ancient downtown new
york apartment. Over the years of living in with the over-demanding
tyrannical demon across the hall he had instinctively memorized every
floorboard, every creak each one
made, and what amount of pressure did so. The large wooden door that
was mere feet down the hall was the only thing separating him from the
sanctuary of the outside world. He began to move towards the door. His
pulse quickened, as he continued to move. He took another step lightly
placing his foot down and then slowly yet gradually increased the
pressure onto his right foot. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of
his face before coming to a stop at the peak of his chin. His foot
settled flat onto the aged board. The bead of sweat began to swell,
fed by the ever-flowing current of sweat that had began to pump out
from the pores of his scalp. He slowly moved his left arm to his chin.
Too late. The bead swelled to it's physical limit and gracefully broke
away. The world slowed to an almost standstill to seemingly magnify
the simple event. The mans eyes widened. The feeling of pure
hopelessness invaded his mind as the drop of sweat magnificently fell
to the floor. He could hear the deafening roar of of the wind as it
rubbed against the meteor-like drop. The drop was but a few
centimeters from the floor and time still continued to grow slower.
His breath came to a stop as the drop drew near to it's inevitable
destination. The drop of sweat hit the floor. The pure simplicity of
the noise was inflated by the pure suspense that hung in the air. It
was as though a thousand plates crashed against the floor. In that
fraction of a second every ounce of sanity left the man. The world
came to a dead silence. The hairs on the back of the mans neck stood
up. A eerie squeal of rusty hinges rung through the air. Every hair on
the back of the mans neck stood straight up. The man let out a silent
sob. His shoulders shook with the feeling of horror. A raspy italianic
voice washed through-out the hall. " You have not paid me your
dues..." the voice happily proclaimed. "You remember what happens to
those who do not fulfill thief debts....." the man pleaded silently,
his mouth moved yet no noise came out. The Italian hag roared with
extreme intensity around him and pulled him to the floor, he screamed
in pure terror. As he was drug into the open, dark portal that was the
Italians office the thick mahogany door slammed shut and a faint blood
curling scream faintly echoed through the now desolate hall.