Lunarcrossed
Like a rabid dog I saw on the Animal Planet once.
CeCe screams ear piercingly beneath her blanket that Mom has her trapped under.
Dad screams at us one word, “Run!”
But I can’t stop looking back. Even as Mom screams at me, and my feet trip up over themselves on the rug near the door. I knock over a vase that was expensive and it shatters across my feet. But I ignore the stings of pain or the broken porcelain cutting me. Because where a man once stood, now is no more, as his bones pop and crack, as his head elongates into a snout and his limbs turn into claws. Fur now covers his body, his clothes in tatters on the floor. Where a man once stood, is now a monster, and it’s charging straight at
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