The screaming

Kara told her parents, night after night, that the monsters were coming.
Night after night, they told her not to worry.
But still she heard them coming, cloven feet, sharpened talons, slime-coated bellies, undulating forward.
Until one night, the window was open.
Until one night, they finally arrived.
Then the screaming started.
David was amazed at how clearly he could see the sharpened steel in the darkness.
He didn’t understand what was happening, why his wife had the kitchen knife in the first place.
As she got closer, he opened his mouth to say something.
There was a motion, the blink of an eye, a flutter of memory, regret.
An animal.
Then the screaming started.
Shannon hadn’t been well. The people told her so.
They warned her about all the talking behind her back.
They showed her how to escape.
They helped her build a safe home, she’d never have to leave, see the bad people outside.
Here, in this isolation.
Her mind’s eye saw them one last time, before they turned to teeth.
Then the screaming started.

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