by Adam Latham05 Jan 2018
I saw her standing by my bed,
She woke me from my fitful sleep,
I felt her stroke my fevered head,
A touch that made my chilled flesh creep.
My confused brain could not discern
Her nature by the candle glow,
Which gave her form an eerie turn
Of flickering gold from head to toe.
A smell like mould and musty books
Hung heavy on the nighttime air,
As two red eyes cast soulless looks
That caught me in their sinister stare.
Her face was gnarled and lined with age,
Her mouth an open gaping maw,
A twisted terror wrapped in rage
The likes of which I never saw.
She forced one hand onto my lips
To quell the murmurs of a shout,
Then with her others fingertips
Reached down and pinched my candle out.