Listen. Seeing you got ritualistic. I can’t have you sliding under the door any more with the clattering of you claws. It frightens me far too much.

How does it do it, the Bone blackness of that shadow creeping silently under the door and over the walls. I wish you wouldn’t. Stop.

Why is it that it frightens me so much, this thing on the wall, looking at me. There’s nothing but black but I feel like there are invisible eyes looking straight at me. Through me. It’s frozen just staring at me, I can feel the tickle of hairs raising on my skin as it looks at me.

Why won’t it go away. I can’t stop looking at it. There’s a noise, small and precise. A slow arm raises and separates from this shadow, then a hand. Then the claws. Five thinned points appear, I can look at them but not focus. It’s moving without moving in my mind but I know it’s doing something. It’s crawling again. Slithering on the walls slowly but time slips by as it passes. Out of the window it goes into the orange glow of a street lamp and beyond into the trees. I close my eyes and blink and it’s the morning. I sit and watch those trees. They sway leaves and watch back. It’s there. It’s looking at me.