My Personal Writes

The Creature

I can feel it grabbing at my ankle, it won't let go no matter how much I try to shake it off.

It's dirty green rotten skin smells so fowl that I have to hold my breath, it's long yellow nails are putting invisible gashes into my flesh. I refuse to look at it or give it attention because then I'll be giving in.

I feel it's red eyes on me, keeping me aware that it won't go away until I give in I feel it crawl up my leg and onto my back trying to weigh me down even more. It starts whispering promises into my ear, telling me things that I shouldn't be thinking.

I'm getting tired now but I keep going, I can't lose to this, this thing. My feet are dragging and my skin is tattered to no repair, I can already see the scars in the mirror decorating my pale skin, making me different from everyone else.

It eats my dreams and preys on my happiness, it loves to hear my sadness like broken records stuck on repeat. It's sharp rotten yellow teeth rip apart my will and throw it the the ground as if it was insulted by its very exsistance.

It's voice sounds like the screams of my loved ones in pure agony, and it only speaks in a hushed whisper so only I can hear it.