Julianna May

He’s coming for me:
His scepter-like hook,
Shiny and sharp,
Erect in his hand.
His dark clothes
Draped loosely on him.
Closer.
I can hear his footsteps.
His breath is heavy,
Desiring me.
Closer.
I can feel his presence
Standing behind me,
He licks his lips.
He won’t stop
Until he gets me.
“It’s almost time.”
The words escape
His cold, sealed mouth.
He wants me dead;
My blood on my own hands.