Still haven't seen that movie.

There was a movie poster in my best friend’s basement,

of a white mask with melting empty eyes,

the open, gaping mouth in a permanent

wail. In the dark, the face floated and

the poster around it might as well

have vanished. That image fed

the first nightmare that

I can remember.

Figures

in caliginous

robes drifting up

towards me, from

void, at the bottom

of the basement stairs.

Their flight did not elicit squeak

or screech from the wooden steps.

Their outstretched sleeves contained neither

hands or fingers. And although their pursuit was

sluggish, their empty, distended mouths, confessed

that I horrified them. My existence was just an occult

depravity. I thirsted to scream. But because they could not,

I had to wait,

for when I

woke

up.