Wild Hunt

The darkness moved in
a black curtain drawn
across the window of sky,
blocking out the light
offered by the sun.

In that time
of in-between,
I stood beneath
a canopy of decaying
leaves, the digits
of aged trees,
limbs stretching high
above my head.

I heard them,
baying,
and howling,
their voices echoing
off the trees.

The small world
of dead trees
blurred,
as I spun in circles,
searching from where
the sounds came.

I started to run,
the bones, and fingernails
of the forest reached for me,
ripping pieces of flesh
from my body
as I ran.

The ghostly specters,
in the shape of hounds,
ran on the air,
their forms
passing through the corpses of tress,
snapping their teeth at me,
as they chased me.

I could feel their warm breathe
on my skin,
their sticky saliva
dripping down my neck.
I waited for the knifes
of their teeth
to tear out my throat.

My world spun again,
as I opened my eyes
to the pale light
of early morning,
snuggled warmly in my bed.