The Beast A Beast silently prowls the halls of my house in desperate search of something. With every step, its clawed pads and meandering tail faintly scuff against the floor. In the darkness, it easily blends into the shadows. Shrouded by a shaggy umber coat, the Beast continues to hunt something. Carefully peering around every corner, it moves to the bedroom. As it creeps up to the slightly ajar door, the Beast’s nose begins to twitch menacingly. Something is close. Something smells good. Quietly, the Beast pushed through the door and entered the den of its prey. Although the Beast was now confused. Something or Someone? It was of no concern to the monster that now slunk onto the carpeted floor of the room and into the shadows. It could hear the Someone. Someone was breathing the rhythmic, relaxed breaths of sleep. She would never be expecting the attack. With great care so as not to disturb the unconscious Someone, the Beast began to climb the bed frame. Its razor claws gently scratched the sturdy wooden furniture, but the Beast was eventually able to complete its ascent without making too much noise. It could see the Someone now. She looked peaceful as the Beast surreptitiously moved over piles of blankets and pillows to be standing directly above the prone woman. Gazing at the pale flesh of the human’s neck brought saliva into the Beast’s maw and hunger into her terrifying eyes. As her pupils dilated with craving, the Beast noticed a single drop of drool escaping from her toothy grin. She helplessly watched as it splashed onto the face of her prey, disturbing the person out of their deep sleep. Fearfully, the woman looked up and beheld the terrifying Beast. Without hesitation, Murphy the Goldendoodle finally licked her mom’s face. Poem by Noah Towbin Design by Julia Garcia
Spring 2021
25
