The Watcher

I welcomed The Watcher into my home.

One-hundred desiccated fingers grasp the frame of the front door.

A muddied peacoat opens, and shadow spews from its stomach.

Hecaton hands pull its hovering husk into the living space.

Screams — ring from corporeal ears.

White eyes remained affixed,

and I remain, embalmed & petrified.

This thing points to the attic.

This thing... has found the thing I've hidden.