Monster

As the words"f*ck you" crawl out of grandpa's mouth like a creature made of hot tar mixed with shards of

empy and broken glass bottles,

the lense clears and the photo is in focus.

Dad shouts some more, and grandpa shuts the door.

Grandma says she's sorry

and I can see that she is a victim of the creature of tar. But she's only coated with its grime,

stuck inside of it. See, my dad? When we got bit by the monster he couldn't help but become one, too.

I'm praying tonght that I don't become one, that I'm able to unstick myself from the tar coated walls of this house.

I'm praying for grandma.

But I'm praying hardest for the monsters.