Shadowing entities protrude towards your bed from yonder windows hazed light. Crying is no option for fear that this may stir something lurking out there in the darkness. Shrugging beds cover upward to protect your face and hands, well inside lest they be gripped by the night.

Foetal position, curled with hands wrapped around knees, eyes gripped tightly pining for sleep to transport you away to safer ground. Sought after sleep that will never arrive lest you forget to think.

Temples pound a beating drum. slightest sound ekes disaster like a thunderous gun blasting through your brain. finest breeze now a gale, the cold wind causing hair to stand upright stirring tingling pebbled skin. shivering at every inhale of breath, whilst sweat finds its flowing course.

Creaking noises of a living structure ponder audibly throughout the stillness as imaginary movement is conceived, sensed objects move delicately as this flurry of the underworld works its way into an already over worn mind. 　

Suddenly the lamenting cries of night torn animal carry up the stair from the darkness below, feline hissing following that same tread to your so sensitive hearing.

Each waft of air an heckling of wandering soul abound to walk freely this hallowed eve, touching the rigidity of young tender body. Mindful of stories told that very night and curses aimed toward the teller of such.

Blasts of light contain certain blindness and panic as you fight to avoid this incarnation that rips away bedding from young skin.


“Wakey Wakey rise and shine.”