Medusala

She slithers into the corner Shadows envelop her silence We mortals try to ignore our fear But our hearts are racing Her reputation has preceded her Perhaps they are lies? I try to comfort myself. My soul feels differently. The hair on my neck is standing at attention. I dare not look at her again. One glance was enough. I feel her wickedness wafting into the room. A baby cries; feeling it too I imagine. She is the one we dread. She has come to collect. Who will be chosen? I am terrified; feeling strongly it will be one of my loved ones. My eyes meet my cousin’s. Tears are slowly streaking her cheeks. She is an empath too; she knows wickedness. I am as quiet as I can be, hoping the newcomer will leave quickly. I dare not glance to look, but I am holding my breath.