The Monster Within

Richard stared at the wine glass. A white wine with hints of yellow. Fruity, with hints of peaches and pear. A savignon blanc. His third glass of the morning. And, by morning he meant before nine o'clock.

He felt the buzz mounting.

It fueled his mood. Which was decidely manic. Or, at least one third manic.

It's what it took to face the monster. The monster lurking inside his head. The wine would provide the courage to look deep, deep inside its fiery green eyes. At least that's the way he pictured his depression. A green eyed, panther black monster equipped with teeth and fangs, that gnawed his mind and soul. And, then spit them out in a soupy, sodden mess. Like the paper he used to chew as a child. Useless except for crafting spit balls.

The monster came mainly at night. Night visits were terrifying, draining, leaving Richard curled in a fetal ball. Covers over his head. Fearing to leave the bed. Till his bladder screamed an incesant warning. He would run, quick step, to the bathroom. He would back into the bedroom so he would not have to face the window. He knew. He knew with ever fabric of his being that his mind had manifested the monster right outside his bedroom window. And, he knew that if he didn't look at the monster it couldn't reach inside his room.

Richard felt the edge of the bed across the backs of his legs.

An excerpt from Bedroom Eyes, Copyright Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved