Memories of Midnight

Faint, high-pitched mewling whimpers. And again.
Rattles, and rustling. In thin pajamas
and bare feet, I crouched by the bannister,

wondering: cat? crying? television?
Rumbling. A man’s voice. No man was downstairs,
just the babysitter, so it must be

the TV, right? I waited, chilled. Voices.
A door opened, and closed, and then silence.
I waited, listening even harder.


4 responses to “Memories of Midnight

  1. Good building of tension toward the climax. Thank you for sharing.

  2. Waiting for the other shoe to drop – lol

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