And as I turned the corner
Into her old room
I saw what I had been warned not to see.
The apparition.

To describe its features would be a great feat;
It had no features so to speak
Just a vague veil
Of a time and place gone by.

In truth it was not terrifying to look at,
In fact it was rather soothing;
The history kept behind the pale old eyes
Kept me drawn to its pale old face.

I was rather calmed by its presence
Until suddenly features started to appear
On its cold dead face
And what had previously been a vacant plane

Was now the vessel of a horrifying creature.
And the sound.
The sound which shattered all the windows
And had with it a tone of fury and anger

Which made my ears cry out in contempt.
And at that point I understood it.
Why it was called what it was.
When I’d heard the cautionary tales of Draymore

I assumed they were nothing but wild fantasy.
But with her scream of a shivering evil
With no compassion in the tone
I realised why
They called her the scream.