In a dream I slew a monster. A Windigo, Chupacabra, Rougarou, or what ever it was I don’t exactly know. A shape shifting creature. A maleness per se. A man one minute and an intity of blackness in the next.

It had been on the edge on my conciousness for many years. It was Dark figure who could come out of the shadow and dissappear back in, in a whiff. It could be up a tree or up on the roof. Or lagging discreetly behind the child at night. A congered fear that grew with every step.

The dream was repleat with a flying saucer and ray guns that went “phew phew” and a cohort of commrades joining the fight. Valiant they were but they were lost. Dam those ray guns, they were only ment for fun. Sleak and modern but not fit for this cause.

A maze of bluidings, with mazes of rooms I followed this nightmare through. In the end it came down to a hand to hand fight. I hopped on its back and held on with the last of my might. “Give me a weapon to use in this fight!” I yelled.

Who and how she got there I haven’t a clue. But she gave me some scissors to use. I stabbed again and again while it flashed through all of the guises it used.To creap in and spread sickness in your head. Futile were these blows. I went for the weak spot at the back of its head.

We’ll leave it here. Enough has been said. I’ll spare you the gore. I’ll give it one last kick to be sure it’s dead.