it's the shiver down your back.
the background screaming, muted,
but shrill in your shivering heart.

the shouting across corridors,
echoes along corridors,
silence aside corridors.

not creaking doors, no
but ones that shut and never open again,
and the others that stay open forever.

not vengeful spirits,
but broken ones, beyond the point
of saving, broken ones that can't save themselves

broken glass may line the red carpet,
fire may eat at the walls,
frost may gnaw at your digits

but never waver.

Don't be scared of being scared.