A sudden breeze brushed my back.
What was that?
"Hiss, he's come for you," the whispers said.
Too afraid to make a sound or turn around.
Boom, boom.
I close my eyes as tightly as possible.
It's a dream. I just know it's a dream.
I'll wake up, and no one will be there.
What if I'm wrong?
YOU ARE READING
More Questions Than Answers: Poetry of Horror
PoetryPoems inspired by the "Scared to Death" podcast, ghost stories I've heard, and my own experiences. Note: Any of these snippets can be used for longer stories, as long as credit is given. Thanks.
