Juleigh Howard-Hobson

Asleep, then pulling, and then tugging, from

unseen hands around the bed. I reached out

in the darkness, but there was nothing there.

A dream, perhaps, or blankets that wrapped some

arm or leg too tight. Nothing was about

but night, no phantoms, no ghosts. A nightmare

and nothing else. Yet still. The sense remained—

a feeling that I was not the only

one who was aware inside the dark, and

something else was with me, waiting. Restrained

for now, but I worried it would slowly

grow bold, until it raised a fetid hand

to do me no good. I fell asleep when

dawn arrived. I’d aged twenty years by then.