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March 20

I am not what lurks beneath your bed. What need have I to creep into houses and hide in the shadows unseen? I fear nothing. Not because my power is infinite or because I am the very soil in which fear’s roots flourish. I am what carried fear in my womb, where it owes its allegiance and what it needs to survive. It could never be my master.

I am smoke. I am beauty. I am everything that terrifies you and brings you comfort. When I am near, you feel me around the edges of your soul. My cold digits slide down your spine to taunt you with my presence, and I grin to myself as you look over your shoulder in search of me. I am the dark edges that you see in your reflection when you look hard enough.

I am what wakes you in the middle of the night, what you see when your eyelids first flutter open, and then I disappear again into the ether as if I never was. I am not the cat to your mouse, no. I am the bat to your moth. I do not give chase as you skitter about with wide eyes and an anxiously twitching tail. Indeed, I give you wings and let you soar as high as you can go, then swoop in for the kill, my attack brutal, swift, and inescapable.

You doubt me sometimes. Though I know that it is inevitable due to the games that I play with you, it does not stop me from resenting you for not understanding that you belong to me.

6:10 PM | Blog it

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