In warmth I lay, the hearth aglow the winter winds do softly blow and with the moon’s pale silver light I sink into the arms of silent night. the blankets soft the room so still a peaceful hush a restful thrill. I close my eyes to dreams I flee embraced in calm… so blissfully. But hark—what sound—what eerie cry— a tremor stirs beneath my sigh. the air—it chills it twists it bends and through my dreams the nightmare sends. a voice—it whispers low and near its words a cold unholy sneer. I wake—I start—I gasp for breath but in my soul, I feel cold death. The voice claws deep it eats my soul a ceaseless howl it swallows whole it calls my name—a cruel refrain— a tortured scream that drives me insane. and though I wake the sound persists a nightmare’s grip I can’t resist. a presence looms unseen untold its fingers grasp—its touch is cold. The walls collapse they crack and scream the night begins to bleed and dream. the air grows thick with fractured screams a blackened pulse it rips my seams. the voice—it creeps it claws the air its hollow tone a twisted prayer. I rise—my hands they shake with dread my soul is lost my heart is dead. I cannot move I cannot flee— this haunted voice it owns me. I turn—I reach with trembling might and seek the light to pierce the night. the hum—it stirs the murmur grows it chills my blood it fills me—woe! “O shade! O night! What brings thee near?” I scream into the suffocating fear. But still the voice, it answers naught— and still its grip, it leaves me caught. my limbs betray me, cold and still my breath it chokes the night’s my kill. I beg for silence please no more! but still the sound, it claws the floor. “O cursed thing, O foulest dread what curse dost thou upon me spread?” No voice, no face, no soul to find just shadows blind, unfeeling, kind. then sudden, flashes light the dark a gleam, a glow, a deadly spark. the hum, it deepens, it thunders still a hollow cry that bends my will. I turn to see the truth untold the source of whispers, icy, cold. A shape—it stirs, it fills the gloom— a plastic shell—entombs my doom… no ghost, no shade, no wraith to fight but something worse—something in light. a glowing eye, a silent stare, a thing of wires—nothing fair. the voice, the hum, the cold despair— the echo true—the poison there. And now I know—my soul is torn the voice—the hum—was Amazon born.