When children go to sleep,
dreams play apart of their rest.
What happens when those dreams turn from good
to terrifying.
It toys with their fear,
growing strong as it feeds on the screams.
A simple shift in their slumber,
only allows better capture in the dark.
They struggle,
wrapping tighter in their covers,
soon the blanket is a boa constrictor,
seizing tighter on the child.
A raspy gurgle.
A chilling exhale.
Eyes of pooling blood.
A small glint of death,
plagues the wicked curl of its smile.
The child can't move.
The stifled scream from the crushing blanket.
The child is frozen, only to observe.
Squeeze your eyes tightly shut, my young child!
It's evolving!
With its hollow spine,
growing barbs.
The slither from under the bed,
a shriek of a song.
Its claws have now sunk,
into the corner of the bed.
Pulling itself,
to perch at your feet.
Waiting for the sweet nectar,
of your breath.
Don't scream, my young child!
Waiting edgily,
it inches forward.
Claws ripping,
the tightly wrapped blanket.
Hovering,
over the your quivering body.
Leaning closer it whispers…
"Wake up little one, time to play!"
Played the game killer shade agent before sleeping.
But thank you for your comment I glad you found it terrifying
I've been toying with the end some still uncertain of the phrase it whispers...but I am glad you like it.