The Night Beasts

Last night I woke to the sound of animals crawling between my walls, clawing and scratching through passages.

It’s the rain, I thought.

But the scent of rain was mixed with feral animal.

Bristled beasts with curled tusks and sour musk.

Old and forgotten, great beasts who once roamed freely on the land.

Now they were here, loosened by wet soil and perpetual dusk of November.

I listened to their wet fur slide past me in all directions, huffing hot breath at each other as they moved.

I wasn’t sure if they were above, below, or around but they were there.

I was sure they were there, they must be. Or was I?

I stared into the dark that swallowed my bed.

They felt everywhere now, under my pillow and through the mattress.

And the rain, the rain, the rain. Never ending.

The night beasts were with me, there within swollen floorboards, the veil, and space between.