The Visitor
She was alone that night
The night that death itself paid a visit
She felt the coldness before it arrived
Like a cold hand following
The curvature of her spine
Raising goose pimples along her arms and legs
And causing the hairs on her neck to rise.
She felt its crushing weight
As it sat heavily upon her coverlet
She gasped as she felt the heavy hands
Pushing her back, pinning her down.
She opened her mouth in a scream
But found of it no sound.
She felt its cold, rasping breath
On her cheek as it pressed ever closer
She could hear its horrific, rattling, rasping grunts
As it moved ever closer,
Closing for the kiss
The kiss that would end everything.
She stared up at the space where its eyes should have been,
Nothing but the opposite side of the room greeted her watering terrified
Her inner self screamed, crying out in the darkness
She struggled till she could struggle no more
She felt its cold lips pressing roughly against hers
She felt the icy rush streak through her shaking body
Her heart froze over and her blood ran cold
The night that death paid a visit.