The Sandman Keeps Watch
Kendra woke up to the muffled cry of a mockingbird. She sat up, her eyes squinting through the darkness, wondering why it was singing in the middle of the night. The whistling sound came again, closer, startling Kendra so much that she jumped and hit her head on the underside of the top bunk. She let out a silent hiss, praying her younger sister didn’t feel it. Above her, the lump she called Arnisha groaned and rolled over.
Kendra sat up, rubbing her head. She couldn’t hear anything but a ringing in her ears anymore, but why would a bird be singing this late? She shivered. Drawing the covers over her, she glanced around the dim room, lit only by the glow of the neighbor’s floodlights.
The door was open a crack so their mom could watch out for them as they slept. Kendra could hear her soft, heavy breathing coming from the room just next to theirs. Mom would be up in a few hours, brewing coffee, making breakfast, and waking them up in time for school by singing an annoying song Kendra had secretly come to love. The throbbing in her head had stopped, and she was tired, so Kendra sighed and laid down to go back to sleep. The birds would start singing again soon, anyway, and it was better to wake up with them than wait for them to wake up.
Suddenly, a long, drawn-out, keening warble erupted from just under the window. Kendra’s eyes flew open and her hands clapped to the side of her head. She gritted her teeth, wondering what made the bird scream when the sound suddenly cut off. Kendra looked around, slowly taking her hands away. A determined crunch landed on her windowsill, and she heard something huff. She glanced to the window.
Through the slit in the curtains, Kendra saw a shape. It leaned over focused on something to the side. She clasped both her hands to her mouth, willing herself to stay silent. The creature outside her window—a round, tapering shadow whose neck stretched long, long away from its body—gave one more halfhearted smack to the windowsill, and then glanced up through the curtains.
It roved its gaze over the small bedroom, books and clothes and stuffed animals strewn everywhere. As it turned its head left and right, Kendra could see it had no nose, no lower jaw. Just one eye. One round, unblinking eye. Yet it sniffed and snarled as it watched, and Kendra could feel a whimper rising in her throat. She pushed the feeling away and tried to even out her breathing. However, she couldn’t stop Arnisha from rolling over and shouting in her sleep.
Kendra jumped when she shouted, briefly looking away to glare up at the bottom of the mattress as if she could will her sister to shut up. But when she looked back through the gap in the curtains, her heart skipped several beats.
Its eye was on her. Its wide, curious eye.
And then it carefully crawled through the glass.
Kendra sat up, rubbing her head. She couldn’t hear anything but a ringing in her ears anymore, but why would a bird be singing this late? She shivered. Drawing the covers over her, she glanced around the dim room, lit only by the glow of the neighbor’s floodlights.
The door was open a crack so their mom could watch out for them as they slept. Kendra could hear her soft, heavy breathing coming from the room just next to theirs. Mom would be up in a few hours, brewing coffee, making breakfast, and waking them up in time for school by singing an annoying song Kendra had secretly come to love. The throbbing in her head had stopped, and she was tired, so Kendra sighed and laid down to go back to sleep. The birds would start singing again soon, anyway, and it was better to wake up with them than wait for them to wake up.
Suddenly, a long, drawn-out, keening warble erupted from just under the window. Kendra’s eyes flew open and her hands clapped to the side of her head. She gritted her teeth, wondering what made the bird scream when the sound suddenly cut off. Kendra looked around, slowly taking her hands away. A determined crunch landed on her windowsill, and she heard something huff. She glanced to the window.
Through the slit in the curtains, Kendra saw a shape. It leaned over focused on something to the side. She clasped both her hands to her mouth, willing herself to stay silent. The creature outside her window—a round, tapering shadow whose neck stretched long, long away from its body—gave one more halfhearted smack to the windowsill, and then glanced up through the curtains.
It roved its gaze over the small bedroom, books and clothes and stuffed animals strewn everywhere. As it turned its head left and right, Kendra could see it had no nose, no lower jaw. Just one eye. One round, unblinking eye. Yet it sniffed and snarled as it watched, and Kendra could feel a whimper rising in her throat. She pushed the feeling away and tried to even out her breathing. However, she couldn’t stop Arnisha from rolling over and shouting in her sleep.
Kendra jumped when she shouted, briefly looking away to glare up at the bottom of the mattress as if she could will her sister to shut up. But when she looked back through the gap in the curtains, her heart skipped several beats.
Its eye was on her. Its wide, curious eye.
And then it carefully crawled through the glass.