It Follows
the menacing presence
I keep looking back
like my name has been spoken,
but no voice has called out
and the road remains empty.
It's like the feeling you get
when you turn off the light
before heading to bed;
suddenly, there's goosebumps,
a chill down your spine,
eyes roam across your skin,
but you know nothing's there.
It's paranoia.
I hear things;
rustling, crackles, movement on pavement.
I freeze to listen closer.
Am I hearing my own footsteps?
Is there someone following me?
The rustle is from leaves.
The crackles are from animals.
But the steps...
The steps concern me.
About the Creator
Luna
I create stories and poems, and am known for deleting them if I (eventually) find them cringey, rushed, or meh (this includes any listed in challenges). Rarely, I post anything outside of that.
I goof my tags sometimes.
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