Darkness has fallen. Floors creak, doors
open and close, as the icy draught
streaks across your trembling cheeks.
This home has a visitor.

As you hide beneath your
warm covers and sheets,
you hear the almost silent
footsteps coming to your door.

You listen in terror as the handle rattles,
as it slowly turns, as your door opens.
You risk a peek and see no one.
Only an open door.

Footsteps approach your bed as
your naked skin chills rapidly.
Fingers from the tomb, trace across
your knee-cap. Your thigh.

You kick out at nothing.
You kick out as a heavy hand slaps
your cheek hard.
You are lying now upon your back.

Sheets rise and form a human shape.
You scream but do not.
Cold sweat dripping from your brow.
The sheets rise to the ceiling and stop.

Hellish laughter breaks
out. Insane laughter.
A sudden pain strikes your
Arm and you wake.

You are safe now.
Safely tied up in your
straight jacket.
Taken care of.

There are no ghosts here.
Just the ghosts of your own
unstable mind.
Of your own imagination.