They violently pried open the side panels on the door, annoyed that the panels were so preposterously historically-incorrect. Their intention was to make off with the 8 foot solid mahogany front doors of the house, still with original hardware for the door bell, the handles, the hinges, and 100 year old glass in the gorgeous windows. These doors were perfect for the hobbit hole they were building, in secret, in the woods behind the old quarry. These doors would be the envy of their hidden neighborhood. These doors would be the pride of their earthship.
All the tires had come from the dump to the side of the quarry. All the windows from the abandoned house down by the unused tracks that ended at the quarry, and all the mud came from the quarry itself.
Nearly everyone had gone sterile from medical treatments that were mandated for all, just ten years before. When babies suddenly stopped being born, the world went into a much needed panic. No one knew exactly whom to trust, and learned instead to trust only themselves. A lot of people went into hiding, just as Jake and Clare had done.
They'd been living in the old crumbling house for two years now, off the grid, hiding out, stripping it of old hardware, fixtures, woodwork, and the like for the last two months. The doors were to be the last thing they took, and would be the beginning of their new life in their earthship.
It wasn't long before the doors were off their hinges and set onto the wagon's trailer bed. Clare went back to unscrew the last bits of hinge hardware still stuck to the discarded side panels. That's when she smelled it.
A musty, earthy, and oddly calming smoke wafted out the now gaping doorway, up her nostrils and into her brain. She started to go very happy and content to stay right where she was. Jake, wondering what was taking her so long, walked carefully back. He saw Clare standing still at the hole of the door, looking up at the ceiling.
"Honey?"
"Come here."
Which of course he did, already under the spell of the powerful substance that someone or something had sent into the atmosphere.
Jake sleep-walked up onto the porch and took Clare's hand.
"You've forgotten the most important part!" they heard from within.
(Note - I totally forgot to work in the prompt! So I'm gonna give that one another two minutes!)
By this time, Jake and Clare were both sound asleep standing on their own two feet on the porch, just as Blaster had hoped they would be. His potion of mugwort and lavender (and a little special something he preferred no one knew about) always had this effect. Blaster hurried to get the two of them on top of the doors in the trailer, or they would wake too soon and it was still only three hours after midnight.
Blaster hopped on the seat of the wagon with the huffing draft horse hitched up, and got underway.
A barking cough brought Blaster up short.
Here my story comes to a tragic end.
I cannot think of a thing to write.
So
POP UP WE-WRITE CONTEST!
All finishers of my story will get a prize of some sort!
If you can fit in an English Bull dog named "Hoss" who has heartworm (hence the coughing), or tiny Borrowers, I'll be extra impressed. Those were two ideas I tried freewriting on. They both went NOWHERE, and I abandoned them.
This is my entry to 
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image is mine