A Crispy Voice
Relaxing in the tub,
As quiet as can be,
The candles lit,
And a soft sound of you breathing,
Eyes closed,
Lights dimmed down,
Next thing you hear,
Is a crispy voice sound,
Sitting in the tub,
As you holler "whose here"?
Still no sound,
But it is getting near,
You stand up,
Reaching for the towel,
You walk to the light switch,
And their's no power,
You start shaking,
Getting a bit scaired,
You hear the crispy voice,
In the thin air,
You grab a candle,
For light to see,
A bloody dismanteled face,
Trying to wrap around thee,
You scream and run away,
But seem to not get free,
So many mazes,
While you keep struggeling,
You slip and fall,
And still breathing deep,
But see no way,
To beable to escape,
He pins you down,
Tries to go for your heart,
You begin to kick,
As his body starts to fall apart,
Your friend comes to your home,
And comes inside,
Hearing screams,
And hearing your cries,
She walks towards the bathroom,
See's you in the tub,
Runs over to you,
Only to see blood on the rug,
The crispy voice,
Yet back again,
Sees you not doing anything,
And begins to grab your hand,
A sharp knife,
You grab from the room,
Slicing into,
His juggler vein,
He drops to his knees,
Whispering one last time,
I'll be back again,
And next time,
I'll be here for wine, and dine....
Copyright © Tera Brown | Year Posted 2016
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