It's now time for just the terror with Nick Guerra. the kid I was jolted awake about an hour

The kid I was jolted awake about an hour ago. My sheets were soaked in sweat. My heart was pounding,

was confused and disoriented. What exactly frightened me? The absolute certainty that some slavering malevolent horror was in my trailer with me,

creeping up on me while I slept with poised claws and razor teeth. My mouth was coated with a metallic taste of fear, sour, dry, and thick.

I grabbed the baseball bat that lays beneath my cot, tiptoed around the cramped darkness of my trailer,

straining to hear over the keening of the wind outside, and the pounding of my own heart.

Of course, there was nothing here except my goldfish and yours truly, a sweaty guy in

his underwear.

It was the gusting wind that startled me awake. It happens quite often in the late autumn

and early winter. The wind rips through the scrub of skeletal trees that surround the trailer

part and with the lion's roar charges into our lonely

huddle of frail little shelters.

It gibbers and shrieks and pounds on our walls with fists of dead leaves and frozen grit.

After catching my breath, and finally satisfied that I wasn't about to become chow for some unspeakable creature,

I lay back down on my squeaky, saggy old cot.

Tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn't. Instead, memories began creeping in.

When this happens you hope for the better ones. Instead, memories began creeping in.

When this happens, you hope for the better ones.

Let's be real.

Better memories take some work on your part.

Meanwhile, darker memories just creep in and leave the door open.

And the howling winds that night had awoken memories from the time I spent in the penitentiary.

...