It’s a spine-tingling breath that called to me at midnight. Hushed whispers were in the air as clouds moved in across the moon. Howls are in the distance as you tip-toe out of bed, not able to make a sound. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. It’s all that is thinkable as the stairs creak with the weight of a body silently moving across it. Outside the window, trees beckon strangers of the night as their limbs wrestle with bone-chilling breezes. Shadows casted are from ordinary objects, or other-wordly beings. Even the cat is on edge, ready to spring at nothing but a curtain. Or so it seems. No light, except for the shining of the moon, is seen. Pitch black is in sight as the eyes struggle to see, but are unable to. Everything is numb, blue, cold. The things that surround blur, and the only thing that seems to have left is myself.


That’s what it feels like to be haunted.