Underneath the stairs, its scurry is heard,
Waiting for my foot to take its last step.
My imagination piques the absurd
About all the places it has crept.
I see a claw dart into the shadows,
Next to the glow of iridescent eyes.
As the deep terror within my hear grows,
I seek the inevitable surprise.
It will gather me into its clutches,
And whisper to me the stuff of nightmares.
It will corrupt everything it touches,
Making me a servant of its dark lairs.
As my vacation arrives at its end,
The horror of reality begins.
John Collings 