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I lye awake, still, barely breathing whatching the shadows move across the wall.

A shadow lears towards me, I don't move, waiting, whatching.

I fear it's mysty gaze has caught me, tracing my every curve.

Waiting, whatching for a hint of movement.

It moves so silently, as if death carried it.

It stands at my bed breathing my fear, tasting what it came for.

I feel its weight on me as it leans over me, pushing me into the bed.

It's soft silken hands hold me firmly in place.

It's cold dead breath soothes me.

The light fades as it leans into me, my last breath is burt and stale.

I wake screeming in cold sweet clutching my heart breathing hard,i mumbled "It was just a dream", as i whatched the shadows lying still on the wall.

COMMENTS

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evilsandwich
12:58 Aug 10 2009

nice story

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