I was going to write about the Golconda fort, MI 3, my mother, shopping for chairs, kitchen stuff and sleeping under 2 mattresses in a too-cold hotel room. All of that is inconsequential to what happened last night.

They followed me here. They are evil, wicked, and cruel. They hate me and want me to cry. They come every night and torment me. I hate them like I hate nothing else. And they leave behind bits and pieces of themselves to taunt me. I thought I was free of them. But last night they came. They came in hordes. They crept into my room, unseen, through the open windows. I was unaware of their presence, unconcerned, watching Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire for the fourth time and laughing at the screwed up subtitles. D went in to my room to get something and shrieked. They were there. Swirling around the room like a dervish, making a low angry noise. She slammed the door shut, but they had made the decision. They came into the hall. We ran, slamming doors, shutting windows, switching off lights, grabbing blankets. We ran in to D’s room, and slept. Cowering under the blankets. Waiting. Wondering. Sleeping.

As usual, all that remained was bits and pieces of them. Like a visiting card, to remind us that they will come again tonight. And there is nothing we can do but wait.