“Let me in…”
It was the darkest hour of the night, a time so steeped in darkness I couldn’t even see my pointed, crooked nose, when I woke up with a start. It was not the rain outside that woke me up, no. It was not the rustle of leaves against my window pane. It was something different, a sound between a slither and a rasp. There was something out there, in the storm not made of water or wind.

Somewhere in the kitchen, a low moaning started, shattering the almost silence. I thought it might be the neighborhood kids, trying to play a prank on me again. I chuckled to myself, fully prepared to teach a lesson. Quick as a snake, I slipped my hand beneath my pile of pillows and pulled out the sturdy wooden baseball bat hidden there.

It’s old and battered, the poor thing. But it has served me a lot in the past, good at hitting the baseball or the nose of someone begging for a lesson, and that night I foolishly assumed it would serve me again. Filled suddenly with nostalgia, I gave it a quick caress and prepared to introduce someone to a bright new world of pain.

On tiptoe, all possibilities of sound smothered to death thanks to the comfy woolen socks I had on, I made my way to the kitchen and it’s light switch.
I flipped it on. There was no one there. Disappointed, I went back to my room.
But I met the window open. I closed it before sleeping, didn’t I? I was sure I did.

But yet it was open and letting in rain and wind.  I strolled across the tiny window to close it but my foot caught on something halfway there and I fell. Then something jerked savagely on my foot and pulled me under my own bed. I screamed, I fought, but nobody came to help.

The rusty metallic smell of my own lifeblood filled my nostrils. All I could see in the darkness were
glowing, sickly yellow eyes. But I felt claws and strength far more than that of any human. Nobody heard me. Nobody saved me.

And then, sometime the next week, after a nosy neighbor tried to discover the source of the stink, the coroner she called couldn’t make head or tail of the remains.
“Mauled to death by some wild animal” She assumed. She was wrong.
You are all wrong. It was no animal.
I’ll never forgive you all. I’ll come for you every time it rains…
To scratch at your window pane.
Won’t you let me in?



Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s