They
There are two tables in our dining room
We only use one
Mother sets both for every meal, laying lace, dishes and delicate glasses
In a trance, she ignores our queries as to why she does it
No one uses the other table
But They do
They are in our house
Each room it’s own mirror
Our night is Their day
They want us here
They want us forever
But Mother and Father won't let us leave
There are two beds in my bedroom
I only use one
I'm told to make both everyday, pulling the covers up and arranging pillows
Cursing as I'm forced to clean a bed I didn't use
No one uses the other bed
But They do
Every night I wake to an outstretched hand reaching for my throat
But Father says it's nothing
Just a nightmare, for we are victims to the darkness
Victims to this house, is what I think
It wants us
They want us
There are two sofas in the living room
We only use one
But both are used, cleaned and sat on frequently
I don't know how
No one uses the other sofa
But They do
They will do whatever it takes to get us
Our lives are trophies to Them
They will win the battle and we will live no longer
For our lives are now Their’s to take
There are three tables in the dining room.
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