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Wocan
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Slowly slipping from door to door, inching from cover to cover. It presses giant ears on door and windows. It sucks in a giant breath, stops breathing and slowly shuts off its heart. It cuts off the sense of smell. Diverting every sense to hear the slightest, smallest movement. Rapping calloused knuckles quickly it closes its eyes and waits. Still and silent as a statue it waits.
The morning after the house is demolished. Doors are torn from hinges, furniture tipped, crushed and smashed. Long scrapes on floorboards the only evidence of victims.
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