Scott Peek

The lights held back the darkness as the day neared its end. And the thoughts crowded my mind like children piling onto a Monday morning school bus.
Just the night before, I had convinced my father to let me watch The X-Files, a decision I had come to regret. The odd music and interesting dialogue took full advantage of my young, inquisitive mind.
But that was yesterday. Now, somebody would open a door, make a loud noise. And suddenly, almost to amplify my dread, my mother left the house. I was alone in the living room, a child who had learned curiosity could cause chilling complications.
Is it here, hiding behind that wall or that door or that car?
But then I saw it — there, in my driveway, was the image that made my world come crashing down: two green dots that were shaped exactly like the two green eyes of the Chupacabra. What else could it be?
Seeing these eyes was like seeing an old friend, a friend that I’d met the night before on the television and seen once more in my nightmares. This time, however, there wasn’t a glass screen between me and the cryptid, because it was somewhere in the house. Every fiber of my third-grade self was sure of it.
I had to call mom. It would be embarrassing, but as the dots grew larger and as the monster grew closer, I knew I would rather chip my pride than lose my mind.
The eyes wouldn’t stop growing in intensity, only getting larger and larger. Soon, the window yielded a reflection that, combined with the sinking of my stomach, let me know my time had come. But without warning, the dots darted to the left, and I turned around to see my mother’s Lexus LS460 pulling into the driveway.
The headlights looked a little more green than usual.