In my house, down in the dark there’s a door. It’s always kept locked and behind it I store A wretched, disfigured, maniacal beast.

It screams and it howls. Its anguish reverberates Along empty corridors into my bedroom where I curl shivering on my bed, ears aching.

I can hear it bloodying its nails and its body On the walls and the splintered door. I can feel the scrapes and cuts and wounds.

My dreams are filled with its unnatural shrieks Those ungodly noises press into my temples. It wails, it never stops.

The cracking and crunching frightens me the most.

Do you hear that? Painful, heavy steps on the stairs. I’m all alone in the house and the shrieks are not far. I think this morning, I saw that door was ajar…