The moon hung high that night, full and bright.

Outside, frogs croaked, unaware of what was coming.

A cherry blossom brushed my windowpane

Colorful and proud beneath the hazy moon.

Its delicate petals seemed to mock the horror within.

 

She woke up screaming, sharp and shrill

Her face white, drenched in pure terror.

Her body seemed limp, dead and cold

Yet she moved with chilling agility in the dark

A haunting silhouette in the room.

Her eyes, wide and unseeing, reflected the moon's stark light.

A low moan escaped her lips, a sound of pure dread.

 

The scream ripped through the quiet night

Like a knight's sword slashing through a battlefield.

The whistling leaves stilled, the frogs fell silent.

The night came alive, a chilling silence.

This was no battlefield; her terror was real.

A terror that clung to the air, thick and suffocating.

What demons haunted her dreams?

What horrors did she see?