I heard it first.
That awful low whisper, speaking words I heard in a dream once.
"The dark has many names"
Shaking, I pulled myself from bed and saw it -
staring through the window.
"The dark has many faces"
But wasn't that my face?
No, the eyes were different.
Darker.
It was smiling now, but it had too many teeth.
"The dark was waiting for you"
I tried not too look into it's eyes, but it was inevitable.
Because it had happened before, hadn't it?
I remembered now.
And I smiled.
"The dark has such delights"
I had made a promise to the shadows,
and it was time to go home.
I laughed, while I fell into the dark.

© Diane Lawlor