Beholder

They don’t see me, never hear me. I peer out through holes in the floorboards and cracks in the walls. Watch them. Listen to their strange sounds.

There are two big ones and two small ones. I practice making a doll that looks like the littlest of them. It is difficult with my twisted hands. I persevere until the resemblance is perfect.

I slip out through the closet one night and swap them. The tiny, warm creature wriggles. I eat the noise it makes.

Morning breaks. One of the large ones leans over the bed.

Its screaming makes me shiver.