When Harold saw the thing slithering out from beneath his bed he felt both vindicated and horrified.
His parents wouldn’t listen to him the first time he became aware of it’s presence. That’s why he wasn’t on the bed tonight and hiding behind his chest of drawers with a baseball bat.
When the thing slithered on top of his bed and wound itself around his pillow, he rushed out and smashed it into a bloody pulp!
The next morning.
“Have you seen a boa constrictor around?” his mother asked. “Billy next door said his pet boa escaped.”
“No,” he lied.
The man in the mirror was changing every time Randy looked.
It was a slow transformation. His once calm and bland features turned into a landscape of worry wrinkles. His blue eyes became murky gray.
He knew the change was about more than just growing old. Something was evolving in his mind. Something dark that slithered around his consciousness just out of sight. Fear of the other. People with different beliefs and colors.
Randy’s world, rooted in another era, was gone and he missed it so much it made him angry. Hate crept into his heart like a venomous snake.