I’m wandering through a series of rooms shouting for my brother.
I know the house is haunted but I can’t see any ghosts.
Just a feeling of great danger that shimmers in the white walls.
There are shots and a note I can’t read.
I run to another house where nobody cares.
I wake thinking these are the nightmares I had as a child.
Endless corridors in homes that refused to stay still.
Walls closing in. Losing myself in the paper mirrors.
A voice in my head that sounds disappointed.
Creatures creeping out of the television.
A fruit market where my parents disappear.
Everyone talks about courage, strength,
keeping positive. Only you cry out
for me at four in the morning,
curling your head in my lap
and clutching your panda,
only you know that I’m still afraid
of the monster under the bed.