HE is the ultimate omen, the satan-slayer, the real mephistopheles.
he drips into my panicked mind like rancid blood, oozing into every
nerve and crevice.

stop; i'm already breathless.

there's no way you could dance through the shadows unseen, unheard, undetected.

but still, you bypass my every defense and creep behind me,

your aura radiates disease and ******, i feel your cold breath against my neck, and red is all i see.

my mind runs rampant with the ideas of the terrors that be.

i turn to face the awful red-death, the demon that makes god's army of angels flee.

he licks his lips and pounces only at me, i turn back and count to three.