February 22, 2025

 

Must be the monster writhing beside the tombstone. I hear scratches and screeches. I smell burning fear roasting in insecurities. It's a foggy midnight and the shadow is at her brightest. The darkness condenses inside the hole where the grave lies. From it, I twitch and crawl to where the blood is. I am thirsty. I am hungry. May the dark shroud me for I am ever hideous.
Comments