A slithering slurp.

A fleshy burp.

I claw at the back of my head as it tenses.

Sounds parade about my senses.

I feel sharp fingers numbering ten

After all this time It’s found me again.

I pounce away from my fears

Dripping down, come my bloody tears

I splash down muddy trails

What little life is within me pails

I find the camp

All is still and damp

I leap to safety behind the cabin wall

I hear a low whimpering call

It softens to a low hum

I lock the door shut tightly,

Behind me I hear “might the monsters come?”

And my shoulders droop lightly