Restless by Mike Korth

It’s two in the morning
and I can’t sleep. It’s raining outside. Pouring, really.
The rain taps firmly and incessantly on the glass.
tap tap. tap.
It makes me uneasy, the tapping.
I try my best to avoid looking out of the window, just in case
I see something out there. Even though I know better.
I think about that episode where Bart and Lisa
don’t find Poe’s Raven scary, yet
Homer is terrified.
tap. tap.
I allow my eyes a quick flick to the window.
No monsters. No big black birds.
Just the pale light of the moon struggling past heavy clouds.
A pane of glass, covered in streaks of rain,
warping and distorting the world
outside.
tap tap tap.
I close my eyes and roll to my side,
away from the window.
I try to find comfort
in the sound of the rain.
I try not to think
about the monsters, I didn’t see.
I try to fall asleep.
THACK.
My hair stands on end, my heart begins to race. My hearing grows keener, my eyes sharper. I try not to breathe.
It sounded like the knuckles of a fist, pounding against the glass.
Someone is there.
Somebody wants to be seen.
A parade of skeletons, monsters, and beasts invade
my thoughts.
I cannot close my mind’s eye
so I squeeze my eyelids tighter.
tighter.
TACK. TACK.
I should turn and look.
To make sure
I’m safe.
But it wants to be seen.
TACKTACKTACKTACK.
Hail.
It’s just hail.
But I’m too afraid to look.
Maybe tomorrow
I’ll buy a gun.