[ WP ] Tell me something I do n't know

You do not know what crawls in the shadows. How can you, trapped as you are in your comfortable prison of concrete and glass and colorful red brick? You rest, five hundred feet in the air above a quiet city center in the dead of night, listening to the rain *pitter-patter* on those large, thick windows seperating you from the outside world and the sound of cars speeding by on the streets far below. 
 
 You can not possibly know the man grasping the cold iron bars of the gates leading into your humble apartment complex. The rain pours on him, drenching him and seeping through faded and tattered clothes. He inhales, bringing air through yellowed teeth and down a dried throat that rasps whenever he mutters to himself. 
 
 The man hides his face underneath a baggy hoodie that might've been blue once. He stares ahead through the rusted iron bars, with a hunger. His grip on the bars tightens, until his knuckles are white. His hands, those boney fingers with bite marks and grotesque, barely healed scars marking his palms and backhand, tremble as he seethes with animalistic rage. 
 
 He climbs the gate, barely noticing how the barbed wire claws into his skin, barely caring. The man lands on his side, before scrambling up on bare feet covered with sores and gashes. He runs up to the glass double doors leading into the lobby, barreling into them shoulder first, sending shards of glass all over the patterned marble floor. 
 
 The tired, underpaid receptionist, a young woman named Cindy, gasps in shock. She steps out from behind the counter on red high-heels, hoping the man was not hurt. It only took a few seconds for the man to compose himself. It took a few seconds more for him to notice the woman with auburn hair looking at him with great concern. He stared at her, with his head tilted to the side. Then, he laughed. The poor girl did n't even have enough time to scream. 
 
 You can not possibly know what was going through the man's head as he clenched his teeth around that young woman's throat. Neither will you understand the pure bliss he felt when her warm blood coated his cheeks. The man ( that wretched, horrid creature ) would've usually drawn it out more, toyed with her as she died. Not this time. He has pressing business to attend to. 
 
 The creature skulks through those clean hallways, illumianted with fluorescent lights. You would think that these pristine hallways would be unfamiliar to such a dirty thing, but no. It has been in the palaces of kings and queens, churchs decorated with gold and faraway battlefields stained with the smell of sulpher and rotting corpses. It goes where ever there is men. 
 
 Of course, you would never understand this. The ancient hatred behind those drooping eyes tinted red will always be uncomprehensible to you. How those yellowed teeth, now stained red, grind and gnash with rage. It has been watching you and it hates you. Not for what you've done, but for what you are. It hates you. It hates all of us. 
 
 He climbs the stairs one step at a time. One by one, a thick leather boot leaving bloody footprints behind. He's in no rush. 
 
 Do you hear him now? He's outside your door. One hand caressing the lacquered wood almost lovingly. Do you hear him laughing? That rasping dirge bursting forth out of rotting lips? He stands outside, waiting. 
 
 Perhaps you think that a single, flimsy wood door might stop him. *You know nothing. * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

