…and through the window comes…

…and through the window comes…

 
…a gentle summer breeze
on the warm balmy night
covers cast aside
she dreams sweetly

a sudden chill half wakes her
a mist, a fog filling the room
shifting, swirling
taking shape

a gentle touch, a soft caress
coldness from beyond the grave
sweeping over her still form
she gasps and tries to scream

the touch is firmer now
the skin breaks and a trickle of blood
flows down her soft pale neck
she hears a whisper

soft as silk, as cold as ice
the Lord of the Night
lets her know her destiny
“now you are mine”
Iain

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