Darkness snickers. You step, stride, stumble into its embrace.

Light seeping from the doorway is like a yellow furred dog,

barking at shadows scurrying behind the legs of chairs,

squeezing between couch cushions.

The front door shuts. The barking ceases. 

Your heart beats in your feet, vibrating floorboards.

The room is cool but you sweat,

anticipating the cold clutch of claws sinking into your arm.

This is not the living room you remember.

Hesitatingly, you call for those you know,

their names lost in blinding black.

Where are they? Where are you?

Darkness knows you are alluringly alone.

Your eyes squint, the faint outlines of the couch a meaty arm,

waiting to place you in a choke hold.

the television a toothless gaping mouth, waiting to devour you.

You can hear the light whining behind the door, wanting to be let in.

You’re backing backwards; hoping you hit the door’s edge.

A fleshy wall causes you to tr-tri-trip.

You trample on another pair of toes.

The stranger’s breath is a howling wind ready to sweep you off your feet.

You nervously gasp, the stranger wrapping an arm around your waist.

You think your skin will puncture, bleed,

but the fingers are pudgy instead of sharp, pressing into your stomach.

The room suddenly illuminates, shadows leaping from behind the couch. 

“SURPRISE!” The shadows shout, throwing party poppers and streamers in your face.

You squeal at the burst of licorice reds, poppy yellows, and tickle me pinks.

Familiar plump lips peck your cheek. A whisper lingers in your ear:

“Happy birthday, Kibummie.”

                                                          Your fear         

s

                                    c

                                        a

                                                        t

                                                                    t

                                          e

                                  r

                       s