Lies a Wolf Hound Under My Bed

Lies a wolf hound under my bed. I can hear his breath in the darkness and when I close my eyes to sleep I can feel the quickening beat of his heart. Pinned down by the night I have no choice but to stay and sleep through it, though my dreams are frantic and fearful. I wake many times and feel him there, waiting for something. I know he won't tell me what he wants.

By morning he is gone, leaving me with his heat like disease. Hungry, thirsty, needing. It is all at once and I pray it will stop. I dress and sit to work but I can't ignore the lack that I feel in my stomach. Coffee. Toast. I think I am sated but I realise I'm wrong. Distracted, I daydream of the ripping open of flesh and the splashing of hot, sticky blood.

Lunch time passes by and I relax when no one comes to see me. I look in the refrigerator but there are only condiments and empty milk bottles. Working again, I notice my hands are shaking. The strongest feeling I've ever had comes over me, as if I could smash through the wall and come out the other side uninjured. I want to do it. I don't though, because that is insane. Isn't it?

The day is over but I feel more awake than before. In the mirror I see my own eyes, wild and black. They used to be grey. Maybe it's the daylight fading away. I am unready for what is to come. An impetus, to run. To pursue and gorge. A heart in my hands, it's not my own and it still beats warm and wet between my fingers. Do I hear myself howl?

Lies a wolf hound in my bed.