Author's Note: Another creative writing poem written with the Stop the Press writing challenge in mind. On "Monsters"...

The Window

It's watching me
The little brown house with
Quaint curtained windows and red front door
Has an ugly scar, a Cyclops eye
An attic window
Black above the street.

It's watching me
I can feel its gaze
Return the stare and I'm transfixed
In the blackness you can feel the terror
Evil lurks in that upper room
Manifest in the unblinking eye.

It's watching me
In my mind it finds my fears:
I am falling in the night
I am drowning in the sea
Sentient weed pulling me under
As the waves lustily consume my screams
I am woken by a clown in garish makeup
A painted smile bleeds across unnatural pallor.

It's watching me
It revels in my racing thoughts
And pounding heart
A hope breaks through my dark thoughts
A neon sign flickering in the abyss
And a rock crashes through the evil iris
A fall of glass is its parting scream
A cataract hole appears on its surface

It's not watching me anymore.