The Eyes of the Monster

A shudder opens my eyes for me, and all the hairs of my tail stand on end. My ears twitch, and for a moment, instinct is all that is left of me. But as the light from the faraway stars shine into my wide eyes, I remember my manners.

“Never fluff up your tail in a squirrel's nest. It tells your host that you don’t feel safe in their house,” my mother always tells me. So, I flatten the fur on my tail and refocus my sight.

The entrance to our hollow is high above our nest, preventing predators from getting us. Soft cedar fluff lines my body, keeping me and my mom warm during the fall, when it starts to get chilly.

I get a sudden feeling of anger directed at myself, for waking me up, while I definitely need ten days of sleep. Just as I settle down and begin to doze off, a chilling “HOOT!!”, giving my nerves a good jump.

An owl. An owl that could eat me in three bites. My mind races to the one history lesson I have ever gotten in my life. My blurry memory somehow recalls the fact that the last owl sighted in the forest that we live in was ten whole years ago. This must be the first owl of my generation.

I pretend to sleep, though my racing heart says otherwise. For what seems like hours, though I know it must be minutes, I keep my head down, hoping my heart doesn't give our hiding place away.

Once I am sure the owl had passed, I tell myself, “Enough! I will go see what is going on outside. And besides, I need some fresh air.”

So, as quietly as I could, I creep towards the hole in the tree. Just as I pull myself up to the hole, my claws make a ripping sound, which comes from me scratching the inner bark of the tree.

I wince, hoping that my mom doesn't wake up, and asks me what shenanigans that I am up to.

A minute of waiting in total silence later, I decide that the coast is clear. With one last push of my muscles, I hoist myself up onto the edge of our nest. The usual sight lays before me, nothing new.

Just as I start to get tired of fresh air, something makes me feel like fresh air is the only way that I will ever be able to breathe again.

Two blood red eyes, staring at me.

I freeze, my claws drilling holes through the inch thick wood. Tail fluffed up, my runaway or die instinct seemingly disappears. Why don’t instincts kick in at the only time you need them to?

My ears prick up, ready to hear even the smallest of ant’s tiptoeing.

The eyes close, bending into the surroundings, and...

“Awooooooooooooooo!”

If I had ever heard that howl before, I wouldn't be alive to witness this. This howl could only be from the monster.

I scatter towards my mother and try to fall asleep. My mother’s deep breaths calm me down enough to sleep, only to be awakened by nightmares.

Finaly, after the hundredth time of waking up, the sun is the only source of light. My mom is brushing my hair, obviously waiting for me to wake up.

“Mom, what kind of animal has red eyes?” I ask.

“Why do you ask?” My mom’s honeyed voice replies.

“Well...”

As I reencounter my story, my mom looks worried. As I finish up, my mom's eyes go from worried, to normal, almost as if she didn’t want me to notice that she did not feel the best.

“Oh, I’m sure that it was only a wolf from one of the neighboring packs.” She looks so confident saying that I almost don’t notice her voice waiver.

Maybe my mom is worried about the same thing as me: no wolf has ever had blood red eyes.