It's here

I hear it.

A tiny shout in the void.

Questioning me.

Taunting me.

The creaking of my floorboards in the darkness, lightly moaning under its weight, the old oak tree it once was begging for mercy.

I see it.

Crouched in the dark dusty corner of my bedroom, I see a tiny flicker, a spark of a match, as it lights up a cigarette.

I see the outline of the smoke puffing out of its mouth, its eye's glow yellow, almost if not brighter than the ring around the tobacco filled stick held in-between its lips.

I smell it.

The scent of bitter sweet tobacco fills my room, moving in as an uninvited guest, making its home inside of my hair, clothes, and lungs, invading every one of my senses, overwhelming me.

It smiles at me.

Flashing me it's blood stained fangs, licking its cracked lips, puffing grey clouds in-between smiles and snarls.

It comes to me.

Slowly emerging from its home in the corner of my bedroom, scratching the walls and floor as it rises, picking itself up from the void, slowly making its way over to my bed, looming over me, it blows it's cigarette smoke on my lips.

I'm apart of my mattress, stuck buried deep beneath my own fear, unable to move, kick, scream, cry, run for help, my limbs have failed me in every sense of the word, I am nothing but a witness of my own demise.

Silence.

Deafening silence.

Nothing but the void, a faint whisper...

" I missed you."

- A.P.M