They had seen it staring malevolently through the window once before, eyeing them with its predatory gaze in the thick darkness of the night. But in spite of the precautions they had taken—a motion-sensor porch light in back and a Springfield rifle next to the bed—they knew it was only a matter of time before it found its way in. And when it finally did, their bloody screams were of little use. Afterward, it sat silently in the study, peering out the very window through which it had peered in so many times before, surveying the vast wilderness beyond the back porch for dessert. — Chris P.
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