Wild Beasts

I remember the wild beasts. The things of the night that hid underneath my bed when I was a child. They hid inside the closet toying with my mind like a sadistic game of cat and mouse. Don’t walk; jump, into bed. I was captured inside my head, an army of darkened things that caused eternal dread. Two seconds became eternity inside my mind. I remember running and the pain of a knife wrenched into my gut; it felt like death. What does that feel like?

 

A spinning out of control, draining, and nearly nauseating sensation that crawls down your spine like a spider creeping towards its prey. The fly knows there is no escape as the crawly thing nears its presence. Yet, for a moment, hope flutters in like a butterfly that just got her wings. She knows her life is short, yet she still graces worlds with her beauty; lovingly, peacefully. Distracting from the horror of the creepy crawling thing. She rescues me from the bleeding pain inflicted by the dagger. I remember the wild beasts.

Reviews

[Alistair (Ali)]

Things that happen in childhood stay forever- they evolve, take different forms, haunt in new ways-but their umbilical cord is still fixed to those proto-doe-eyed horrors of our smaller days.
Powerful and honest writing, beautiful truths.
Well done!

[wordman]

bumps in the night,a child's fright