I leave the closet once you begin to dream.
Creeping closer, I watch you breathe; each rise of your chest beckons me.
You shiver under the covers. Was it a draft? No, it is me, leaning over your prone form.
You mutter words of protest to figments of your imagination while real horror is standing beside you.
I caress your brow, sending dark thoughts into your slumber; the nightmare begins.
Malformed, gnashing demons invade your mind; you clutch at your blankets, seeking protection from the assailing horrors.
You awaken in terror as I, unseen, retreat to my dwelling, well-fed.