What The Window Let In

He leers at me from above. Antlers, arms and a bright threatening smile. His fingers grip and grab at nothing.

I cannot move. I can see a hint of my ceiling light through the antlers and bone. His skin pulls and stretches over his form like a mesh dress that’s two sizes too small. Bone pokes out in places where the skin could give way no more. 

He looms but only stares. He moves neither closer nor further from me and makes no sound. I don’t either. Not because I don’t wish to. I can’t.

The sound of tapping tiptoes its way into my senses. 

That branch my landlord refuses to trim. It’s windy tonight. Has been for a few days. Yesterday the wind brought me a storm. The rain keeps me up sometimes. But it does keep him away. 

He is gone, and I’m sitting up. My fingers move when I ask them now. 

A time later I drift off to the tapping of the branch and the rush of wind through drafty windows.