He peels off his mask and leans in close
To whisper of all the things he has to boast.
And I know he’s come for me and mine
To twist up my corpse like braided twine.
His eyes gleam white and pale
His mouth screams a ghostly gale.
To the woods I run, to dash and flee
To knock against rough bark and tree.
Quick and nimble, jump a fallen log.
In mud knee deep, skirt the hollow bog.
Footfalls yell as he runs, he chases
My pulse through the black, he traces.
I dare not look back to see,
How close he is to me.
And as I near the vast lake,
My life his sharp blade to take
And burry deep down in red,
Then in the lake lay to bed.
I scream and trash against this doom
My cries lost with the call of the loon.
About the Creator
Laura Lann
I am an author from deep East Texas with a passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. In my spare time, when I am not writing, I draw and paint landscape and fantasy pieces. I now reside in Alaska where adventures await.
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Comments (1)
Terrifying. So well done.