Midnight Intruder

Just rain. The tapping on my window was not what I thought it was. Just rain. The window wasn’t opening. No. I just needed to adjust my comforter, that’s what that cold air was across my feet. That scuttling across the floor was...

I sat up. “Go away,” I said to the figure sitting on my floor, “You’ll get rainwater on my floor.” It said nothing. It just wrung its thin wrists with its long, bony, fleshless fingers. Its hollow, sunken-in eyes stared at me from the darkness, the rest of the creature concealed by the shadows of my bedroom.

“Get out,” I commanded, gesturing to the window. The creature, still silent, crept toward the bed with a small squishing sound. It disappeared from sight as it bowed its head, and then I saw it rear up against the edge of my bed. It placed its long fingers atop my blanket, its eyes staring into my tarnished soul. Suddenly I felt very, very small in the middle of this bed. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating what was revealed to be blood on the ground instead of rainwater. I suddenly realized who had stolen into my room, his dying scream echoing in my memories. I shook my head.

“No. No. No, no, NO!” I clutched my sheets close to my chest, remembering some of his last words to me.

Shhh, it’ll be fine, sugar, it won’t hurt a bit....Don’t cry out now....

The creature cocked its head, the neck cracking loudly as it did so. I kept madly shaking my head at the creature that had once been my superior, my companion....my friend. Anger boiled up inside of me, and I swatted at it.

“Go back to Hell where you belong!” I screamed. It grinned, showing too many layers of teeth, and said 2 words.

“Ladies first.”

An all-too familiar pentagram appeared on the headboard of my bed, and I howled as claws dragged me through it, the creature before me following suit.

I woke up with a start at the sound of a thunderclap. The window was shut tight, and my sheets were undisturbed. I panted heavily and placed a hand over my forehead. I hadn’t suffered a nightmare since I was a child, which, age-wise, wasn’t all that long ago. But I hadn’t feared him since I was human. A sob escaped my throat, and I covered my face with both my hands. No. I couldn’t cry. My lips were chapped, and my mouth felt like sandpaper. I heaved myself out of bed to get a drink, the wood by my bed creaking as I stepped across the wet floor.