This is a poem I did about a recurring nightmare I have had for years. I do not always get it too much anymore [thank god], but it generally happens if I am stressed or ill.
My dream starts with me entering a supposedly abandoned house in a street. The house looks different from the others, and generally has an air of suspicion about it.
As I enter the house, I hear noises from upstairs, so [as you often do in dreams, even though you shouldn't], I ascend the stairs, and go to where I can hear the sound.
Here I find a rotting, zombie-like man laying in a bath of blood. As I turn to run, this man slowly turns to look at me, and starts slithering out of the bath. I run, but as I am going down the stairs, I see him glaring at me from the top of the stairs.
From here, he starts to follow me down the stairs, down to where I am now, desperately trying to open the rusted front door. The zombie man knocks me to the ground, and I am facing away from him. As I turn around, the man goes to attack me, and it is at this point that I wake up.
It's a horrible dream, and I originally intended to turn it into a short story, but I think I am better at writing poems. Makes for a good story though, doesn't it?
Let me know what you think!