Night Spawn
I wake in the dead of night to the scratching of nails outside my bedroom door. It hears me wake, and waits, breathing.
"Go away," I whisper, still trying to sound strong. "Leave this place."
I am answered by a keening shriek of hunger and rage that I do not recognize as the word "papa" until it stops.
"It's your turn," my wife mumbles, and I struggle out of bed to see what my son could possibly want at three in the morning.
« Friday Fives | Main | Nevermore »
February 27, 2006
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Finally, the lighter side of Dean. I miss the comments on your comments. Can't we go back to being anonymous? Really.
Posted by: stubby larue | February 28, 2006 at 11:45 AM
Yes! I prefer the lighter side of Dean.
And being anonymous.
Wait, I bet this is logging my IP address! Crud! I'll have to go post at the library. Or find an Internet cafe. In Mexico maybe.
Posted by: anonymous | February 28, 2006 at 06:25 PM
yeah, I just didn't see a lighter side. Maybe I always try to discover and magnify the worst in Microstory Mondays, but I kinda wonder if the kid's hungry why he'd call for papa. And be scratching at the door? yee
Posted by: Emily Fairchild | March 10, 2006 at 07:53 PM