The fluorescent lights slowly flickered on, one by one. Combined with the last of the lingering summer sun, I could almost see to the far end of the park.

I began my first round, performing the typical end of day checks. I could almost convince myself that I was not disturbed by the metallic creeks and groans I heard as I progressed. Reaching the far end of the park some five or ten minutes later, I gratefully turn around and speed back towards the guard shack, trying not to glance over my shoulder like a child running up stairs in the dark.

Night had truly fallen by the time I returned, and I nestled myself in for what would hopefully be a calm, unexciting night.

Hopefully.

It was a good two hours before the noises began. I had almost lulled myself into thinking that this night would hold no surprises, that I would simply do my required duties and leave in the morning, none the wiser.

The screeching began quietly, almost a whisper, faint enough that I could pretend I hadn’t heard it. It grew in volume and fury, until 10 minutes later, the howls echoed off the walls, my brain swimming with the noise of it all.

I crouched beneath the desk, hands pressed tightly to my ears, eyes scrunched tightly closed. I could hear claws raking at the door, the windows, fists pounding against the glass.

Like every night, I prayed that they would hold for one more night.