“Let me in…”
It was the darkest hour of the night, a time so steeped in darkness I couldn’t even see my pointed, crooked nose, when I woke up with a start. It was not the rain outside that woke me up, no. It was not the rustle of leaves against my window pane. It was something different, a sound between a slither and a rasp. There was something out there, in the storm not made of water or wind.

Somewhere in the kitchen, a low moaning started, shattering the almost silence. I thought it might be the neighborhood kids, trying to play a prank on me again. I chuckled to myself, fully prepared to teach a lesson. Quick as a snake, I slipped my hand beneath my pile of pillows and pulled out the sturdy wooden baseball bat hidden there.

It’s old and battered, the poor thing. But it has served me a lot in the past, good at hitting the baseball or the nose of someone begging for a lesson, and that night I foolishly assumed it would serve me again. Filled suddenly with nostalgia, I gave it a quick caress and prepared to introduce someone to a bright new world of pain...

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