A CREEPING
And in the little, tiny hours of night, there came a creeping. An up, up, up sort of creeping. One that lasts an indefinite amount of time.
It was no surprise that the Creepies had come to town. There wasn’t much else to keep them busy and the town was a very nice place by all accounts. They came up out of the forests and near the water and in construction sites otherwise abandoned and, once they had the entire town surrounded, they began their creeping.
It was a creeping into the stores and the library and your house. It was an eating of food and pages and your thoughts. They were so very hungry. It had been a long time since they had last eaten and creeping is a very hungry business.
The Creepies crept and ate and danced little dances during these long hours. Maybe you heard their little feet?
Maybe you heard their munching and their laughing and their singing too. Maybe not.
It doesn’t matter much either way. What matters is that they were here and then they left and now they are gone. To focus on the then of it all will do you no good. They’re very particular about the thoughts they munch on and the then is their favorite.
It was, as most creepings tend to be, a slow and gradual process. Eventually, all-encompassing. Creepies in every room in every home above every head and every bed. Yours too.
Then, unlike most creepings, it ended in a very organized fashion. There was a return to the ground and to places dark and damp. A swift exit downwards, one by one by one by one. A leaving from and returning to homes of a different kind. Each Creepy now holding the then of a different person who would wake up having forgotten what they’ve even forgotten.
Good one.