The BeWitches

Soft whispers in the dark
bony caresses on cold cheeks
deadly rancid breath
wafting into your face
You can't move
You can't speak
You can't think
all is a whirling
nothing
Engulfing cold
squeezes your heart
goosebumps all over
slimy warted fingers
touches your neck
Cold silvery lights
scour the dark forests
a shouting scream of despair
the wind howls
you are helpless
hopeless
as shadowy figures
approaches
the Blair Witches...