The Old Man In My Closet

It's 3AM, and I should be asleep, but there's an old man in my closet.
Each night, he scratches at my closet door; if I'd known the scratching's origin, I'd have been alarmed.
As time passed, I grew more comfortable, and was able to sleep; that is, until I awoke to find him standing over me, staring with milky eyes.
Apparently, he cannot get to me through my blankets, so they're my nocturnal shield.
The scratching's stopped, in it's place, husky breaths fill my ear.
I dare not peek, for fear of his intentions.
Dear God! My feet are uncovered!