The night seemed to last forever. My sheets clung to me, damp with my sweat. The clock’s slow, steady tick-tock, tick-tock droned on through the night as I lay helpless in my bed, and at every tick, and at every tock, the shadowy thing in the corner drew nearer and nearer and nearer. I could not move or breathe or scream—how I tried to scream—but like a dead man I waited as the unhurried shadow crossed the room. It made no sound, no gesture, nor any other sign to me, but only came forward in its inevitable purpose.
Drabble: The Nightmare Comes
Tale Told 