Red Eyes

Midnight:

Beady red eyes are back…by the barn. I saw them two nights ago. Red eyeshine means predator. These eyes are too low for a wolf or dog. It slinks, gliding across rutted ground, as if on ice.

All the windows and exit points are secure. Sally’s asleep, finally. I need to keep her close. I creep back to bed, wrapping my arms around her frail form. Damn glioblastoma. She’ll never be the same. I miss our early days.

Carefree and frivolous… no longer.

Three AM:

A dull thud startles me from sleep. Earthy musk fills the room. Peering out the window, eyes still there – closer. When I blink, more appear… gazing up. No whispers on the air – gray and flat. Deathly silent. What do they want? Their forms hidden in shadow reveal eyes only, probing, curious.

Curled in sky blue sheets, Sally snores, blissfully unaware.

Head and limbs heavy, I stumble back to bed.

Sleep, glorious sleep.

Half Past Five AM:

Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz

Thwack!

I hit the snooze button. Groggy, I reach for her. Fingers sticky, bits of fluff. No Sally.

Squinting, scarlet and baby’s breath blue swirl together reminding me of Sally’s favorite gelato, Fairy Floss.

Coppery tang, sodden sheets… my eyes fly open.

Sally?

No, please no.

Dragging myself to the window… carnage and viscera - everywhere.

Crimson pools where fox kits once romped.

Sally… in her bloodied nightdress… stares up… soulless eyes…

Cackles with glee…

Blood dripping down her chin… like ice cream.