I'm a bit late this week (it's actually last week already...). Seeing as it's pretty-much Hallowe'en, I thought I'd give this one a spooky twist.
The echo of ancient drums beats against the inside of your skull.
The air smells sweet, like the ghastly green stench of catarrh or puss.
It’s probably best you can’t see what lies in the room behind you.
The shapeless face screams and spouts forth curses vile and bitter.
At the same time it’s still as death and silent as a whisper; a mottled joke on you.
Hallowe’en is the doorway of winter, and winter will bring more dreams and cold, sleepless nights.
Death, perhaps, would be a better end.
To take your life… or wait for them to take you?