The mouse scurried along the pipe quickly. The cold, moist metal wet its feet and made things a little slippery, but with a wall on either side, there was little worry about falling. He could feel the gurgle and whoosh of water in the pipe. Then came the electrical conduit, rising up the wall. With practiced ease the mouse pulled himself up the twisted metal cladding, bracing his back against the opposite wall each time he repositioned his feet. Up, up, and up. Farther each time till he reached the sill plate. There was the hole, gnawed into the wood by some other mouse long ago. A turn, a twist and then a quick sprint along the rafters.

Bobby lay quietly in his bed. His eyes open in the darkness of his bedroom. The sound of scurrying claws, scratching, moving came from somewhere. Somewhere in his room, so faintly he could not tell from where. But it was there, it was moving. It was coming to get him.

Momma never heard the monsters, she didn’t believe in them. He held his breath and listened.