"All these years and no real spring and no real death." -Zach Schomburg, from From the Fjords

Spare

I wake up in the middle of the night to a loud thump, seemingly coming from the room down the hall, and, for some reason, I just know it’s the monster. I hear the door open and close, and my throat swells and closes completely in fear. Unable to breath, I listen as the heavy steps walk down the hall, closer and closer, towards my room. My heart hits the inside of my ribs over and over. My diaphragm spasms, making my breathing sporadic. My door knob jiggles slightly, as if the monster doesn’t know how to work one of those things. After a few shaky moments, the door knob turns, and the door slowly opens. Ice fills my body, starting from my head down to my feet, and I’m paralyzed, as I watch the tall, overly slender figure crouch to get through the doorway. It has one eye, and is covered in hair thick as worms. Are you frightened the monster asks me, quietly. I move my mouth, but only produce some groaning sounds. Well, I am, I’m not embarrassed to say it the monster says. He sits next to me in my bed. The monster is trembling. Something is coming for us the monster says. Something big. The monster’s voice is wavering. It puts its oblong head on my shoulder. I put my arm around it. We’ll wait the night out together.