this morning #70.

this morning, the tree branches outside his bedroom window were still. daybreak had come. he had made it. still, he had to accept that there was something out there stalking him, watching him, plotting to whisk his eight-year-old brain & body away. he would surely be eaten. sneaking out of bed last night & watching IT alone on the downstairs tv while his parents slept above turned out to be a poor idea. IT was just a movie. he knew that much was true. that didn’t stop his mind from keeping him up all night though, imagining twisting trees as long, curling, clown fingers. this evening would be worse.