Stumbling through the night
he reaches for something to hold on to.
The wind screeches, its steel fingers encompassing his throat.
Chasing futile dreams,
running from the beast within.
The premonition will prove true
as the shadow’s whispers whirl in repetition.
“Stop. Breathe… any could be your last. Hush. It’s almost over.”
Regardless, he carries on, into the abyss unknown…