He is Following Me

I sat on the bench in the park and looked down at my gloved hands

It was the middle of the winter

I was cold

So cold

I tried to wiggle my fingers but they refused to move

Frozen on my hand

Suddenly I heard a whisper behind me

“Come with me,” it says

The voice doesn’t sound human

Looking around I see a man standing a few feet away

He is tall and wearing a dark cloak and a hood covers his face

I jump up and run away from that man

I can’t run that long because it hurts my frozen feet and I have to slow down

I quickly duck into an ally to escape the man

I hurry down it and soon I am looking at a brick wall

A dead end

As I turn to leave he is standing there

A shadow figure

I can’t see his face but I know that he is grinning at me

He slowly starts to walk to me

He seems to enjoy the fact that I am trapped

“No,” I mumble as he walks nearer

He holds out his hand

I can’t see it too well but it is bright white and very thin

He wants me to take it

Somehow he speaks to me without talking

He says that he can help me

That he wants to help me

I slowly back away until my back hits the wall behind me

But he stands there and again I hear his voice

In my head

He wants to take me out of the cold and into the warmth

I am hesitant but then my body shakes in the cold

I want to get out of the cold

I slowly stretch my hand and take his

I then realize that his hand has no flesh

Just bone

Looking into the man’s hood I see a grinning skull

He tightens his grip on my hand

He makes his way back to the front of the ally way

Pulling me along

I slowly follow behind Death