Night Owls

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

“It’s the oil painting,” he said. “The dog, the cat, the furnace, can’t you see it?” The woman watched as the man’s face darkened.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

It took a moment for its form to take shape. Darkness enveloped them, the silence hammering in the stillness of it all. Then, Jerry gasped. “Oh god,” he trembled. “What is that thing?”