Fear

A bit of prose... this was inspired by the question: What do you fear the most?

I am hunted by a monster.

It has wild eyes, bloody horns, matted hair, and a bone-chilling scream. I can always see it lurking in the shadows. It whispers lies, taunts, and torments me. I can’t seem to hide from it no matter how hard I try.

I remember the first day I saw it. I don’t know how I never noticed it before. It came up behind me, and when I turned I froze with fright. Its cold eyes pierced my flesh and told me lies. With a hollow shriek, it leaped at me, bloody claws reaching for my heart. I snapped out of my frozen state, and jumped out of the way just in time. Then I ran. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, and the creature pursued me. I could hear it so close behind me; its hot breath brushed my neck.

I ran all the way to my house, up the stairs, into my room, and slammed the door. Quickly, I locked the door. Slowly, I backed away from the door, never taking my eyes off it. My breath came in quick ragged gasps. Relief settled in me. It could not come through the door. My blood turned to ice when I turned around.

It stood behind me, blood dripping from its talons. My heart stopped, and my blood turned to ice in my veins. With one desperate effort, I threw myself at the creature. I flailed my arms and yelled all with a vain hope that the thing would leave. But I did not collide with the bloodthirsty monster. Instead, I crashed headlong into a mirror. The blood on my hands was my own where the glass had cut my skin.

I am the monster.