Long Overdue

The Librarians.

They’re here again, come a’ knocking at my door. Pause. The sound of my breathing billows out into the suddenly rarefied air of the room. Knocking; louder now and more insistently. No point hiding or scrabbling to turn out the lights, they know I’m in here. More of that damn knocking. The heavy thud as flesh and bone slam solidly against wood, the slide and scrape of slashing nails hinting at what is to come.

Picture them now grinning at each other from the wrong side of the door; eyes flashing, adrenaline surging, hearts beating ever more rapidly, winding up for the Fight or the Flight. It’s all a game for them. I can hear their heavy breathing, predatory howling, the snapping of taught tendons. Sounds like about six or seven of them, maybe more outside positioned on the perimeter in case I make a break for the windows. I don’t like my chances.

No escaping them now. Couldn’t run even if you wanted to. Desperate glances over your shoulder at the loping limbs that don’t tire, keeping you in their sights as you scramble and stumble, fall over and stagger back up. They know you can’t keep this pace up for long and they love the drawn out thrill of the chase. The pounding in your head will get louder, the buzzing in front of your eyes more intense. Just as you think your lungs will burst and the whirling tableau turns black before your eyes they’ll be on you, tearing burning flesh from shattered bone. You could try and hide. For how long? They’d sniff you out with their long dark muzzles. Laugh like barking at your pathetic hiding place. All the better to smell you with my dear. Then they’d back you into the corner, the whole pack rabidly baying, hackles raised, lupine lips curled back to reveal shiny pink gums and elegantly curved ivory blades. Drooling. Anticipation. Air crackling with electric tension; the unbearable suspense. Slow motion, stop start. They’ll surge forward in a graceful wave of purest fury. Black, grey, white, then Red. At the critical moment you can see the end of yourself reflected in the sets of their madly rolling eyes.

I should have returned that Library book ages ago.