Puppet of the Past

I remember it as if it was yesterday…

The moon, it glints through the curtains of my room,
Shining brightly into my eyes, like heaven's light.

But all around, darkness creeps, rises, and wraps its cold arms around me.
I avert my eyes to the dull ceiling, the fan above me, whirring slowly...
I hear voices, echoing in my mind, though all is silent, only one thing can I hear,
Cruel, humorless, imitations of my loved one’s voices and a spine-chilling laughter rings in my ears.

Cold as ice, frozen in eternal hell this laughter was. I try and make it go away, but it repeats itself like a broken record
I see shadows, and mysterious figures racing across the room, and I know in my heart, that they are nothing more than my wild imagination.
Still, the feeling that someone is watching my every move sinks in my heart, captures my breath like quicksand, and smothers my every scream.

I feel things crawling up my back; I shiver, not because of the cold, but the cold feeling that runs through me still.
I feel like a puppet, controlled by the darkness around me, an invisible puppeteer holding my strings.
I hear the thunder, louder than normal, or only a hallucination.

I look out the window and see tiny drops of water settle onto the window pane, captured as prisoners, their sad faces wanting to be free. My heart beats to the rhythm of the rain, faster every moment. Thump, thump, drip. Thump, thump, thump, drip.

Then, I see an almost iridescent figure, looking at me straight in the eye, as if a warning.
I hear it whisper, "Don't look back, don't look back", and its voice fades away.

The wind blows the window open and a gust of cold air rushes into the room, and I, nothing but a pile of ashes, am swept out of the room, lost forever, my existence forgotten in time…