My brother Hamish slaps his hand over my mouth, a terrified look in his eyes that scared me just as well. Hamish never got scared, ever. Even when Papa chased us down with his switch or a gun was pointed straight at his heart.

“Is the front door locked?” He whispers to me, holding me closer to him as if at any point someone could take me.

“The door is locked,” I confirm in my own whisper, and he seems satisfied at that. I’m terrified to ask why would it matter? Normally he’d insist the door was open, allowing friends into our little home.

“Listen here, Mary-May,” He grips my shoulder tightly. Not enough to hurt, he would never hurt me. “When the clock strikes 12, you hide in your room and bring Smokey too. The closet, hold it shut and no matter what you hear or see, don’t open it. When you hear the clock ding that’s when it’s safe.“

I grip his forearms, “Where will you be?”

“Elliot and I will be outside.”

“But-“

“No buts.” His grip tightens. “Just do what I say.”

“Who’s out there?”

“It’s no who Mary-May,” He says harshly. “It’s, it’s something even your worst nightmares couldn’t imagine.”

I know this is no normal situation, not a burglar or a bear nearby or else he’d be right there with me. And the closet? Why wait to get out when it strikes ten?

“Is it bad?”

“It’s evil, so much that when it roams this Earth on nights like this even Satan starts to shake.”

No smile comes to my face. He’s not joking. I know that much. Hamish May have his jokester moment but not this far.

“Will you be okay?” I ask the questions I know are hard to answer, whether it be stupid or smart.

“I’ll be fine.”

“And Elliot?”

As much as he annoyed me and made me go grab him beers. I’d never wish harm on him.

“He’ll need every bit of God’s blessing.” His frightened grey eyes flash to the clock that reads 10. “Where is that damn cat?”

“He’s in the closet, won’t come out even when I took him out.”

“Good God he sensed it.”

“Sensed what?”

Hamish snaps out of it, as if realizing he said too much. “Nothing. Just remember my rules. And absolutely no talking.”

I nod my head, as he now backs away and towards Papa’s gun at the door. He grabs it, looking at it, remembering the events of last night, when Papa shot at his feet.

He turns back to me with sad eyes. “I love you Mary-May, so much.”

“I love you too Hamish.” I wave, showing a smile even if I felt sick to my stomach. What was happening? Who’s out there? Why does he need the gun? Where’s Papa? “Be safe.”

“I should say the same for you.” And then he’s off, out the door. The skies are dark

Will I see him again?