Little Terrors

Cats Little Terrors

Writing, and rewriting, scenes about monsters seemed like a good idea at the time.  But now, lying in the dark, duvet pulled up past my chin, I hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet outside the door.

Tiny, furry feet.

Up and down the stairs, they disturb the floorboards and ornaments.  I hear a clatter.  A bang.  I bury myself in the mattress, and wait for it all to pass.

Then, all is still.

Perhaps it is over.

But it isn’t long until the silence is broken… a laugh from the baby’s room next door.  The giggle of a plastic, wide-grinned child.

“Say something, and I’ll repeat it back to you in song!”

“Say something-”

The door creaks open…


Not quite terrifying beasts, but still little terrors.  They leave me alone all day, until I open a book or newspaper.  Then they come running.

Emma

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