In my room...
I am not well and it's such a
Cold night. I can't sleep so I
Sit up wrapped in my blankets,
And stare out the window.
Peers out from beneath a hood of icy clouds.
Weave shadows through the swaying branches
Which grope at my window-sill with gnarled fingers.
So tired, but sleep eludes me still.
Can't seem to stop the restless gears grinding away in my skull;
Or tame the pulse which quickens with my racing thoughts.
Look to the shadows,
A voice whispers.
And she will come.
Shadows in the trees.
I regard their motions,
Flowing, ebbing like the sea through trembling limbs.
Leaves floating like driftwood in their dark depths,
Or fish darting under the surface of a murky pond.
Where is she?
Perhaps she is deeper within.
I focus deeper,
Sinking beneath the shimmering surface of shade.
Fish dissolve as I descend, and then...
Eyes, many eyes,
Looking at me questioningly,
Gently, but intently scrutinizing my alien nature.
Eyes become faces,
Blurred at first,
Then horned and grotesque,
Frowning demons with an eerie, hollow gaze.
Is it the wind or their howling I hear?
Why do they stare at me that way,
As if they know some terrible secret?
I shudder and turn away,
Clutching my blankets tighter to me.
The chill swells in my veins;
Something is very wrong.
Shadows creep furtively through the house,
Floating silently through the hallway,
Quietly slipping into my bedroom
Like a mother come to check on her sleeping child,
Gliding along the walls to my bedside.
Shadows flutter in a chilly breeze
Over my forehead.
I cannot move,
Cannot cry out.
I am frightened.
It's so cold,
Much too cold.
Shadows open my mouth to kiss,
Pouring into my nostrils,
Filling my lungs with a black wind.
Grips my heart in an icy fist,
And pummels me to the mattress.
I gasp feverishly,
Hands clawing the sheets in agony,
But the air will not come.
Red mist fills my eyes
And I convulse in waves of excruciating torment.
The pain and the cold,
Smothering my vision,
Clouding over my thoughts,
Drinking forth the nectar of my last panicked breaths.
wanted it to end
George Chadderdon © 1993