MicroHorror

He longed for a good night’s sleep. Not even a night, really. Four hours. Four unbroken hours where he could close his eyes, rest his tired body and let his brain shut down for a bit. He didn’t think it was a lot to ask. He also knew it was impossible.

He started to think back to when he would rest all night and wake up refreshed… When was that? Three years ago? Jeez, it was almost four! Could it be? The days and nights all ran into one another now, one endless blur of working all day, finding food, preparing it… And the cleaning. The endless cleaning. It seemed to him at times that there were bodily fluids everywhere. It seemed to him that no sooner did he clean up after one “accident,” there were more. Always more. And then, inevitably, he would fall asleep. Sometimes in the middle of things, sometimes when there was still work to do. Rarely did he ever plan on going to bed anymore; he just fell asleep wherever he was.

And then there were the noises at night that would wake him. Footsteps. Screaming and wailing. The moans. There were nights he thought he would go mad.

Two years after it all started he went to see his priest.

He told them the twins would settle down in a few years.