He knocked once…twice…thrice upon the door,
Sending vibrations in waves that crept across the floor,
To reach where I cowered, breath paused in my chest,
And joined with the jackhammer beneath my breast.
Time lost count, as the seconds were stretched in both ways.
It was a fraction of a moment that lasted for days.
In the air hung a silence, alone and profound.
He listened outside the barrier in hopes of sound.
I neither blinked, nor moved, only remained perfectly still,
Pressed against the windowpane which looked upon a hill,
With one winding road that could take me away.
My freedom within view, yet held cruelly at bay.
One last jiggle of the knob, then he slithered down the hall.
His smell lingered behind, seeping through the wall.
Only to be assaulted by the stench of a soul so black.
Never quite gone…He always comes back.
