Most monsters were merely inconveniences.

A few displaced socks or a pair of missing tennis shoes hardly ruined entire days. But that didn’t apply to the loss of souls on any regular night.

If there was one thing all monsters liked, it was sweets. Typically cookies or some odd mixture of caramel, honey, and tree nuts. _That _was the best way to draw in every soul sucker within ten miles. They were more aggressive and would run over their smaller cousins to get the sweets, after that it was simply a matter of catching and disposing of them.

I was perched on the dresser, watching the window as dusk fell with its weariness. Most likely it would be a few hours before any reared their ugly heads—but I could wait. If I was good at anything, it was patience. When you were born a Mistseer, or those who could see through the frail veil sheltering us from monsters, you learned to wait. Particularly for top-of-the-line psychologists with ridiculous wait times. To the credit of my overly concerned parents, therapy was helpful when everyone believed you were crazy. It was a good way to out all the messed up things you could see during the night.

My wayward thoughts were disrupted when I heard the yawning of a monster.

—————

That’s as far as I got today.