A prickle climbs the spine.
The nape grows cold.
Something breathes where the shadow deepens.
Something waits in the dark space.
₊˚⋆☪︎⋆˚₊
A heavy gaze presses through the room.
It stays behind the shoulder,
moving when the body turns,
slipping into the blind spot.
The hair on the neck stands up.
₊˚⋆☪︎⋆˚₊
The house holds a secret occupant.
A shape shifts in the periphery.
It follows every step toward the stairs.
The hallway feels long,
crowded by a phantom form.
₊˚⋆☪︎⋆˚₊
Is it a ghost?
Is it a memory?
The mind creates a monster from the stillness.
The terror builds in the space behind.
₊˚⋆☪︎⋆˚₊
The eyes scan the dim corners.
Nothing appears in the light.
Yet the certainty remains.
The skin knows the truth.
An uninvited guest stands close.
₊˚⋆☪︎⋆˚₊
The air turns to ice.
The heart races in its cage.
Turn around quickly,
only empty space greets the eyes.
Turn back,
the presence returns instantly.
₊˚⋆☪︎⋆˚₊
It watches.
It looms.
It tracks every single breath.
It lives in the angle of the unseen.
A persistent stalker made of nothing.
A shape that dissolves when faced.
A nightmare that grows when ignored.
₊˚⋆☪︎⋆˚₊
The dread sticks like a second skin.
It remains outside the field of vision,
a constant companion in the dark.
It lingers.
It bides its time.
It stays right there,
one inch behind.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Let your becoming be louder than your fear, and your smallest steps become the road you once thought impossible to walk. An Appalachian poet and cookbook author my book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇
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