It calls to me,
From the darkness,
It sings,
Ever so sweetly,
A finger beckons,
Bloody and scarred,
I can feel the terror,
Clutching at my heart,
The whispers,
The hinge squeaking,
The door softly creaking,
The covers are over my head,
My throat locked in dread,
The closet inhabited by the dead,
Calling, singing,
The crack widening,
As I begin screaming.
Copyright © 2026 Charli Pitts. All Rights Reserved