As the mist descended something disturbed the lake’s still waters. The creature rose out of the water, looked straight at me and smiled.
Night after night they grumbled about being hungry and dared her to step foot on the floor.
Instead, last night she set up a trip-wire and watched them drag her rapist step-father into the shadows, and smiled.
After Jon took his seat on the train beside the knitting old woman, he raised his hands and showed her his long black claws with a fang-filled grin.
The old woman put down her knitting, opened her mouth and pointed at the blood-covered train conductor who lay screaming between her massively wide jaws and she laughed with a girlish titter when Jon got up.
I learned at a young age that, if you aren’t afraid of them, the monsters in the closet and under your bed can be your friends.
Much later in life, I learned how to get them to do my bidding.
When I told my father about the monsters in my closet, he asked me to describe them very carefully.
Then he took me over to his closet, made me open the doors and then showed me the ancient, family weaponry we would use to kill them all.
The kid charged up to the cash and jammed a .38 in the cashier’s face.
“Oh good,” said the cashier, his jaws unfurling, “Lunch is here!”