The creaking of floorboards
That keep me awake
Try to ignore it and sleep
For my own sake
Don't pay attention
That's how it gets in
As told in folklore
Handed down by my kin
The breath on my neck
But nobody's there
Thing's that go missing
The pictures that stare
Rocking chair that is moving
The dread as it swells
My breath turning white
Unidentified smells
The baby that's staring
Just over my shoulder
Laughing at nothing
The night that seems longer
My throat closing up
The sweat on my brow
My heart rate increasing
The question of how
The drop in room temperature
The hair on my neck
The unwanted company
If I should happen to check
The song that starts playing
When I'm reminiscing
The abundant feeling
That somebody's listening
The light turning off
All on its own
The radio that is playing
When I get home
The creepy doll's eyes
The musical toys
The bang in the night
From the unexplained noise
The child that knows
Things they should not
Unexplained knowledge
My skin getting hot
Warm breath on my back
I can only assume
Handprints fade on the mirror
As I walk into the room
The question of movement
In my peripheral vision
The sound of faint whispers
If I should dare to listen
The feeling of presence
The shadow that looms
The unexplained giggles
When alone in the room
The book that falls over
Though no-one is there
Like I'm being watched
The faint stroke of my hair
The cat that goes crazy
The dog that barks warning
The air that moves by me
The long wait till morning
The creaking chair next to me
As if someone is here
The urge to run for the door
But I'm frozen with fear
The whistling kettle
As it overboils
The heavy silence that follows
The absence of noise
The knife that goes missing
From the clean kitchen side
Things not where I left them
Tricks of the mind
Scratches appearing
On my skin overnight
The ominous flicker
Of a single street light
The face in the crowd
That disappears in a flicker
The footsteps behind me
That make me walk quicker
My name being whispered
In the wind passing by
The thought of my grave
If I should happen to die
The door opening slowly
As if on its own
The sound of running water
Though I'm home alone
The knocking of branches
On my bedroom window
The stark sense of danger
As I snuggle my pillow
The unshakeable feeling
That I'll see someone there
If I stare through the dark
At the clothes on my chair
The sweat in my hair
The tear in my eye
The feeling of pressure
In my bed, as I lie
The worry inside me
The doors did not lock
Feet out of the covers
The tick of the clock
The curtain that sways
Though no draft is near
The faint sound of footsteps
Downstairs that I hear
White as a ghost
No pun intended
The feeling of dread
Forever impended
About the Creator
Sian N. Clutton
A horror and thriller writer at heart, who's recently decided to take a stab at other genres.
I sincerly hope you find something that either touches your soul or scares your socks off.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
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Comments (5)
Amazing writing! spooky subject matter!
It would make a fantastic spoken word piece. You should record yourself reading it.
The meter and rhythm are fabulous@@@ Loving your slam poetry!!!❤️❤️💕
Oooh all the things that go bump in the night 🫣🫣🫣. My door to the attic was in my room as a kid and there were so many unexplainable noises 😬. Found out at one point years later that squirrels had chewed their way in and were rolling walnuts around and storing them allllll over that attic 🤣
This is so well done and has a wonderful flow. You seem to have hit on just about every night fear. Excellent work.