Everything dies as he walks by, the tall stranger.
Spring's flowers wilt and the trees turn into spindly white things.
He walks soundlessly to the porch while I press my fingers to the window.
Frost is everywhere.
His breath is now on the other side of the glass pane, his hands mold mine.
Stippling cold races throughout the house.
His face is devoid of emotion, such an honestly cruel one.
He whispers the words I long to hear, the ones I loathe.
The glass shatters and his hands are on my throat and I
w a k e u p
I'm pretty sure I had a dream like this one sometime. I was making my coffee and looking out the window when I remembered it.
If you've got the time, I'd love for you to comment how you felt when reading this. Were there pleasant ''oh that's creepy but I don't mind too much'' chills, or was it just ''meh''? It'll really help me improve. :)