by Raymond Daley
I can hear him breathing. I'm just going to snuggle down here, perhaps if I don't move he won't kill me.
Darn monsters, the grown-ups always say there’s no such thing but I can hear him turning in his sleep.
Hopefully I can wait him out, come morning I'll find a better hiding place. Maybe the closet, there's plenty of cubby holes to secrete myself in there.
Right now the only thing between him and me is the bed above me. I'm gonna stay under here.
Maybe the closet isn't such a great idea. He killed Norman two days ago in there, he woke up and used what he called "a torch" and poor Norman just vaporised. He'd just paid off that big loan on his yacht too, now he'll never get to enjoy it.
Dad always said the old places are the best, under the bed, in the closet, in the drawers.