Saturday, August 7, 2010

Silent Death

My bed feels like a frigid tomb in which I lay as a bloodcurdling scream echoes from down the corridor. 
Clutching my wool blanket tightly my knuckles whiten, barely visible from the glow of the candlelight, in the corner of the room. 

I close my eyes expecting at any moment that it will come for me too. Slowly the flame of the candle descends as I hold my breath waiting. 

Rising high a shadow came into my room and stole my breath. I too now hunt for you to join us in our misery. How quickly you forget and think you are safe, a useless task as we wait for darkness, and we will strike without warning--just as he had.


Stephen said...

I like how false security succumbs to the inevitable. Also sentence2 after comma - i don't know which object to associate with this part.

Madison Johns said...