16 readings

2 votes


the Man in my house has come to kill us.
I am sure of this fact as I am sure that he walks outside my door,
that his shadow melds with the walls,
oil-slick and reaching.
the door is cracked and I will see him in that sliver of space,
I will rise from my bed a harbinger,
and bludgeon the Man’s skull.
the sound will be a whip-crack, a gunshot,
and I will be safe.
I wait and I prepare,
every groan, every creak, could be his footsteps on the floor.
my racing heart will not settle,
and I will be awoken one night to him slitting my throat.
but there are no shadows in the hall,
in my room.
lurking over my bed.
my terrors are grounded in the pit of my stomach,
the Intruder is in my head.


A few words for the author? Comment below.

Take a look at our advice on commenting here

To post comments, please