Fear

She's an apparition in the mist with not another soul in sight. She peers around with clouds escaping her mouth, like a dragon's fiery breath. She presses on, up the hill, around the bend, and out of the light. The only sound for miles is the rustling leaves in the breeze, on this dark and eerie night. An owl hoots in the distance as she passes the park. As a branch snaps to her right its a fearful journey to embark.

That moment, a thought comes to her as she glances around with fright. An image so terrifying creeps up within her sight. Decaying fleshy fingers protruding from the trees. Now has her walking this road with unease. Down the hill and hooking a right she finds dark and deserted stairs. In the alley, she glances down, finding leaves of olive brown. A creepy lingering mist within this deserted ghost town. Nervousness in everything she sees makes her timid of shadows belonging to the trees. She quickens her pace as her heart begins to race. Only another mile until she reaches home, safe.

Down toward the store, a creaking of a door. Passed an open window, a deep and growling snore. On she continues as it begins to rain. In the distance, she hears the clacking of a train. As the horn begins to blow, her footfalls slow. A patch of pure dark, ears so sharp, somewhere in the distance a Rottweiler's bark.

Across the road, over the bridge that's high and enclosed like the bars of a baby's crib. Fearful of the man who comes toward, passes undisturbed, breathing restored. On she presses, the more she stresses. Traffic much thicker, despite the hour. A night so silent, it makes her cower. Her feet pound the pavement to a steady beat. Persistently homeward-bound, her instinct never wrong. Head down, she walks the footsteps of a song. An alteration in the street with a shrill and booming voice. She's searching for another path but there is no other choice. Feet striding wider while her fear only grows. She's damp and nearly froze. Only one more block to go with her cheeks aglow. She walks the street faster, her destination home. Is that a little gremlin or a harmless garden gnome?

From her journey, this is what she knows. A loathing fear inside, but it never shows. Strolls after midnight, she's had her share. Old man's glowing cigarette, or monster on a chair? Rounding the corner, the howl forewarns. Is that a cat or does it have horns?
From within her pocket, the silver glint shines and with fumbling fingers they jingle like a chime. With the click of a lock and the swoosh of a door. She steps inside as it starts to pour. Home at last and without a single scratch. Just like last night and the night before last.