The room is cold,
no light filters into the gloom.
A quiet abandoned place,
dark, full of doom.
Footsteps echo,
walking across the floor.
I listen to them move,
as they reach the attic door.
The door opens,
closes back.
Footsteps on the stairs,
on a downward track.
I crawl inside my covers,
listen as the steps draw near.
Should I run?
Should I hide?
The covers shift,
the ghost is by my side.
One Writer Ranting 