“My name is Peter,” he said
With no inflection.
He walked up the stairs with grace,
Fearless and confident,
Passed those who would
Do him harm.
Or rather, would not dare to
Do him harm.
Everyone else was fair game,
Especially the girl.
The girl, the girl….
Special, for reasons unknown.
Yes she must be protected.
Yet she must be hunted.
Eyes flutter, fingers twitch,
She can’t snap out of it:
Sleep paralysis.
The soldiers descend the stairs,
Entering the basement,
Dust and dirt disturbed
By a unwitting fugitive and her
Protector.
Flashlight beams wash over the girl,
Lying on the floor.
Eyes flutter, fingers twitch,
She can’t snap out of it:
Sleep paralysis.
Weapons raised.
One beat. Two beats. Three.
Bodies scattered across the floor.
Weapons never fired.
“My name is Peter,” he said
and walked up the stairs
To do it all over again.

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