You’ll know when he comes.

The smell of cherry cola will be

prevalent & the violins will turn it

up to eleven.

 

There’s also the distinct possibility you’ll

see a disfigured face or mask in the pale

moonlight

staring at you from across the street

or through the trees in the woods.

 

You might also notice a machete or other

weapon of choice dangling from his

grotesque, misshapen hands.

 

Then slowly he’ll begin making a beeline for you

never too fast

& you’ll try to make a break for it before inevitably

tripping on a root, fallen branch or whatnot.

Then he’ll raise up his (insert weapon here)

& strike.

 

Finally, you’ll sit up in bed,

regain your faculties & thank the universe

you’re not laurie strode.