Monsters
The wife and kids sleep well each night, but not me—because I know what haunts the dark outside. In peace and ignorant of these terrors, the family sleeps unaware how I watch over them, patrolling the halls and rooms of this poor house, alone, pulling curtains tight, peering behind them, watching monsters stalk the night.
Closer they come, bolder, each night, taunting me with distorted faces of sunlight humans: my boss, the ass; neighbor woman who spies; messy dog walkers; and store clerks, all whispering words I strain to hear.
I fear soon a night will come when these demons breach my thin walls and find this family and me unprotected, soft and alone, throats bared.
When that night comes, I will save us all from the soul-rending tortures. Hell will not claim us!
The kitchen is well stocked. I know where the knives are stored. And I wait.
