Semi-Daily Scribbles

Kris was startled by the face that hovered in front of the oatmeal. All she did was open the pantry and reach for a packet of cinnamon raisin, just like any other morning where she was already 10 minutes late for work. But on this special Thursday, a ghoul with his nose out of joint wanted to start something. It was a full moon, and Kris hadn't slept well the past couple of nights. The recurring picture show, the one in which Kris ran from silent, hooded assailants through a rickety mansion, played without an intermission and at full volume. Kris heard the crack and crunch of her bones as the attackers bit hard and devoured every last morsel of the girl who just wanted to get to work on time.

"If you're looking for a tussle," Kris said to the uninvited pantry guest, "sit tight and I'll be back around 6:00." She slammed the door on the face that wasn't a total stranger. The tiny head with a sharp tongue and a knack for prognostication usually came around when something big was about to happen. But with no sleep and no dinner the night before, Kris was more concerned with the bus schedule and her plummeting blood sugar. She hoped her tardiness wouldn't have anything to do with the event headed her way.