Allow me to introduce you to the beat of tempered blood.
Rhythmically pulsing through you and off the skins atop your mind.
Growing afraid... something draws near.
Shadows dancing on curtains.
Listening to footsteps in the snow outside your window...
headed for the door.
There's a chill in the air at 2:13.
You're not alone my dear, no, this isn't a dream.
A knocking on the door.
Will you let it in?
Forget to lock the door
and strangers may come in
uninvited.
You start to breathe more heavy beneath the covers on your bed.
And the wind only laughs at you as it knows of what you dread,
now wandering inside.
Creaking floorboards and breaking of glass out in the hallway:
Warning you that there is little time and
no escape from this icy, gripping fate.
And to a dead end, shivers kiss your spine.
A figure hovers in darkness waiting to find you behind the door,
if it may come in.
Shadows cross the floor and glide over your skin.
A waking nightmare... oh no.


© 2004 Brendon Matthew Thomas