Pitter Patter

         I laid in a bed in a dark, eerie room. The only sound being that of my own breathing and the faint pitter patter of water drops from a distant sink. The bed, my own personal safe haven. A new sound appears, at first hard to place, but growing ever more distinguishable. A cacophony of cries of agony and anguish sound in the distance. A sick, twisting feeling settles in my gut.
         I can hear it, clawing at the ground, squirming its way towards me. A deformed, horrendously hideous hand claws at the edge of my bed. Something starts coming into view. A grotesque form, made all the more terrifying by its dull crimson eyes. It reaches a hand out to me, then retracts suddenly only to stare at it's own hand as if surprised. It starts to tear into its own hand, clawing and ripping its way through its own skin. As it claws, it scrapes away bits of its own blackened skin. The skin falls away in long thin peels, revealing the malformed gnarled flesh of the ravenous, voracious beast that hid beneath.
         This beast, this thing stares at me, through me, straight into my very soul. I can sense its hunger, even now, it wants to devour anything and everything in sight. I am food, that is all I am to this thing. I do not matter to it, I am prey. It reaches toward me. I try to close my eyes, but it wants me to watch. Little by little, the hand gets closer to my face, each second stretching and bending as if trying to prolong my suffering.
         As I stare at the hand approaching my face, a million thoughts flow through my mind, racing past my consciousness like bullets. What about my family? Will anyone miss me, will they care? These thoughts, these raw emotions of mine are overflowing, filling my entire being with dread until there is nothing left but this primal urge to live.
         Like a switch, I awaken, screaming and crying.