'Let Sleeping Dogs Lie' by Abi Hennig

Let sleeping dogs lie they said; don't poke them awake, even if one eye seems to twitch, even if they growl under their breath; don't stroke them to calm them when their exhalations come hot and heavy, limbs convulsing in spasms. When the whimpering starts, hold on to your headphones.

Let sleeping dogs lie they said; no good will come of waking them; they’ll rise dribbling and barking, red of eye and sharp of tooth and come for you pinning you to the floor and breathing hot and heavy into your face as you screw your eyes shut repeating this isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening we told them to sleep we told them to lie down we told them to lie we told them to close their eyes and lay their head down and leave it to us and everything will be OK.

Let sleeping dogs lie they said, but no one thought about the children, the children poked them and woke them and now they are no longer lying, they're awake and they're angry and the box is open and the darkness is flying out and the truth is everywhere and it's loud, so loud that the headphones are not working and we screw our eyes shut but the light crawls in through the gaps and at the bottom of the box fluttering its tiny wings, like at the bottom of the heart of every one of the children, like at the bottom of the heart of every one of the dogs, like at the bottom, the very bottom, deep, deep down so deep it's almost suffocated but not quite, of our hearts at the bottom of all of this is hope. And now it's awake.