And through the mist
He came
Blocking my path
His eyes, wide, yellow…
diseased.
Scales ran down his back
Wiry hair ran down his legs
His hands were old
Fingers long and crooked
He was every monster I feared in my youth
The one that hid under my bed
Or crept from the closet at night
He bared his jagged teeth and growled
I froze
But, my path lay forward
I’ve run from him before
but he’s always come back
Not today!
I bared my own teeth,
and in a fury
I charged ahead…
Doug Skinner
17