The wind is howling outside the window,

like wolves set loose in the night,

calling to the mother moon,

singing their songs of fright.

Huddling underneath the blanket

listening to the scratch of a branch against the panes,

wishing that the sound would stop,

that the pain would go away.

The terrible noise invading my brain,

growing louder and louder and louder,

the clock ticking on the wall,

feels like thunder in my ears.

The wind is inside of me,

filling me with deep despair,

the rasping click of the heater,

switching on and off like demons whispering in my ears.

I lie, afraid to move,

afraid that the monster under the bed will get me,

afraid that the creature in the closet is still there,

afraid that I am crazy.

The sounds are inside of me now,

filling up the emptiness of my brain,

crowding out the rational thoughts;

I'm afraid I've gone insane.

Then it is morning,

I have survived the night,

the monstrous demons have disappeared

with the coming light.

I am free to live my life again,

to be a normal person,

but when the night comes

as it always does--

I will be afraid.