Beastie

We are quiet here. Except for whatever beast it was that screamed through our woods. The children are still talking about it and truly, I've never heard such sounds coming from an animal. High-pitched caterwauling coming from the dark outside the bedroom window. Not of woe. But of frenzy and anger. Most unholy sounds. I expect in the morning to find a trail of bones and ripped, bloody flesh.

I finally went outside. Had to locate it. The faint light from the porch lamp does not deter it. Finally see some small animal pushing through the tall grass. It looks white and unrepentant. Keeps moving. Turns towards the house - suspect it sees us. Still screaming. Dogs across the canyon bark in protest. The little beastie returns their call with more furious rage. Turns away from us and disappears in the grass. What can it want? What can it be looking for? Why so twisted with wrath?

Flashlight beams across the dark of the tree canopy. It's gone to visit our neighbors. Don't go down the hill little buddy, it only gets more civilized.