Monday, March 12, 2012
Shiver By Christina Askin Richter
A thousand eyes are watching. Waiting. They thrive in the shadows of your driveling madness. Their gaze like ice, prickling over your fevered skin. They taunt and tease like a narcissistic imp.
You can hear them whisper in the lies that you weave inside your self-medicated mind.
Turn on the light and no ones there. Just you and the empty space, rank with the smell of sweat and paranoia. “Is there anybody there?” you ask, your voice like a thunderous wave crashing into the stillness. The silence that roars in reply making you recoil.
Fear has become your lover, racing over your skin with its ravenous caress. It hungers for you. Thirsts for you. It feeds off of your secrets. Lips blood red, plump with callous lullabies and empty promises.
You turn the corner and a face vanishes. Your eyes betray you. Over and over, again and again you try to convince yourself that it wasn’t really there. Light hitting shadow, all in your mind. Your incessant, piteous mind.
Footsteps in the hall, scratches on the wall, ravaging your senses like a nightmare. A chair moves by an unseen hand. A cup rattles, a cupboard door slams, a faceless laugh rings out in the night.
You slink beneath your covers and pull them tight around your chin. A thousand eyes are watching.
Another sleepless night.