As I lay on my bed I feared the blankets would suffocate me. I swallowed hard and the saliva almost choked me. My nostrils burnt as I laboured to breath, the chest like an IUD about to explored in heavey breath. I gasp, opened my mouth, as dry a bones of chelbi. My hands fell beside me, my eyes pooped out of their socket, blood shot.
Dread fell on me like the morning dew, hard unexpected and thoroughly cold. My ears heard dins, silent sounds of death.
I knew it was back, having taken its last harvest, it roamed around as it looked through its list. A cold sweat broke out a silent grunt heard, a scuffle in a meadow, and a body drop as the grim, collect its latest prize.
Morning was greeted with mourning as a son of the soil, hit down and ate the dust.
