Shhh, can you hear them,
The creatures of my imagination,
Stealing in on loneliness, sweeping in from the cold?
As night’s tentacles beckons and darkness claws at your window
Can you hear the tap, tap, tap, of hooks and talons and pincers?
Shhh, listen in the quiet, shut your eyes,
Can you hear your house crying with fear?
Can you hear all those familiar nuances above the tick of the clock and the hum of your computer?
Is there something else in the creak of the stairs, the dripping tap and the wild wind rattling the doors?
Did you hear that? Soft and almost inaudible,
A rasp, a breath, a sigh?
A grin full of teeth?
Steal a look over your shoulder, if you dare,
Are all the shadows in the room yours?
Are you sure?
What’s that out of the corner of your eye?
That’s where they start, a fleeting thing, odd and peculiar.
Don’t ignore it.
Don’t write it off as a trick of the light or a trick of your mind.
They are real.
Can you get to the light and turn it up?
I hope that will make you feel better but it’s already too late.
They’re on the inside looking out.
Looking at you.
And they are hungry,
Very, very hungry
They’re coming for you in the night.
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