I heard three knocks on the door.
It was late, the fog crept over the porch.
The front door, poorly lit,
lent a shadow.
I called out , who’s there
and why have you come at this late hour ?
I have come for you, a voice whispered.

Fear struck through my body like a bolt.
I could not move and yet I had to see
what the next minutes would hold.

Another three knocks on the door,
ominous in its raps, insistent and steady.
The shadow moved against the light on the drape.
A slight breeze stirred the fog against the window's pane.
I dropped down on the floor.
Why have you come, I asked again.

I have come for you, the voice replied.