The Door
Creepily walking
The feeling of the soft carpet
Moving swiftly and silently
The door continues to knock
The sweet smell of nectar infiltrates my nose
I wonder what's behind the door
I grab and turn the knob to the right
I cautiously open the door
A gust of wind blows
Pushing my hair out of my face
I stare as my face grows blank
Death is at my door
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