You don’t see him yet but he’s nearing you. Every day that passes. Every second that goes. He inches closer and closer towards you.
He stares up into the sky as he steps from side to side at a speed none can attain. His hands, positioned at both sides of his head, palms outstretched as he shakes them. And his body, never bending, never twisting, upright and straight.
Having no face. His limbs are long, too long to be human. He dresses up in pure black. He’s always getting closer, and when you see him, it’ll be too late.
You won’t know whether he has picked you and is approaching. Nothing can stop him. I know my time is up, for I can see him from my window on the grass patch 3 miles away on the plain. He’s there. He’s dancing. He’s mocking me. He’s mocking my death.
With each glance I take, I have visions. Visions of my death. Visions of how he’ll kill me. Visions of this man’s inhuman, cruel executions.
I see mysef paralyzed on my bed, my door ajar. It opens ever so slowly as I hear his feet hit the floor in his dance of death. There the door is, wide open, as he slowly enters the room, still dancing his way in, he laughs a low, guttural, demonic laugh. A laugh that sounds like 2 voices sounding at the same time. One pitched lower than a bass could go, and one other pitched higher than the ringing that’s in your ears as you sit in a silent room.
His head turned towards me. He starts dancing on to my bed and onto my body. He clicks his feet everywhere. He hits and strikes every part of my body and face as he dances. The oxygen is kicked out of my lungs, my chest can’t bring in anymore from the pressure and my vision turns red. He then stops and stands on the top of my chest as he stares down at me with that blank, pale, face. He then sprays some strange powder on my face and then grabs the pillow from behind me and he pushes it into my face. I can’t do anything, yet I can feel everything. As he does so, he punches my stomach and chest, making more of the air in me escape forcefully. And yet, I am unable to die.
He does it repeatedly. In my mind, I am screaming, begging for mercy, crying, sobbing uncontrollably from the pain of this. He then leaves the pillow on my face, I can feel the pressure of his hands lift off. He removes the pillow and then starts again, his dance. He dances on my face for the entire night, stepping on it, beating it, breaking in my teeth into my mouth so that I may choke on it, hitting my eye and puncturing it repeatedly with his shoes as blood sprays into the inside of my skull. My nose bends inwards and I can feel every bone inside get lodged into my skull.
And now that same powder, he pulls it out and rubs it on my face. Pain hits me instantly to such an extreme extent that I bite my own tongue and die. It seems that powder was the one keeping me alive, while also having the ability to take such a thing from me.
I can still see him in the plains. He is approaching each day. And I can only pray those visions I saw were the only things he’d do to me…