[ WP ] Make me terrified of an inanimate object

It whispers to me the most at night. When my wife sleeps soundly at my side, I hear the longing in its voice. It speaks to me gently, like a soft caress that always lingers and never truly fades from the skin. My blood tingles when I first hear the song that draws me. The melody whisks me from the bed, through the hallway, and out into the living room, beckoning me with endearing words that make my heart thump wildly. As I race through the house, the tempo quickens, the song demanding my presence near the fireplace. 
 
 A loose, goofy smile finds itself on my face as I begin to dance. The extinct fire at my feet flickers occasionally with embers coming to life. The rug burns into my barefeet as I slide across and turn on my heels. A crackling comes from the charred logs as small flames consume the wood. The song is blaring in my skull, growling into my ears. My face and neck growing feverishly warm, my dance becomes more erratic, nonsensical, but I still feel entranced and fluid as I move my body around the room. 
 
 This has become my ritual, OUR ritual. I cast a glance at the record player sitting on a nearby end table. I paused in a pose, staring longingly, sweat running from my temple to the slight dip in my collar bone. My shadow shifts on the wall, barely moving as the fire's light bears down on us both. The tune changes to a lower octave, one that makes my skin prickle in excitement. My ears pulse in time, blood trickling down the side of my neck. 
 
 The song wraps around me and I let out a joyous cry. I begin to dance again, but slower, more sensual. I feel lightheaded, but my body continues, never faltering like the flames that sometimes licked at my legs. An overpowering sensation is building in my core, in my skull, and I dance more desperately. It whispers in my ear, welcome chills rushing down my spine. It begs me to continue. It demands that I do n't collapse although my limbs are tired and my head is pounding. It promises me release soon, that the night must go on. 
 
 I let out a strangled groan when the record catches briefly, then resumes. 
 
 `` Sweetheart, are you okay?'' 
 
 I freeze in place. I blink once, twice, before reality sinks in. The fireplace at my feet is silent and does n't seem like its been used in weeks. I then look at the record player, dusty and forgotten. 
 
 The hallway light turns on, my wife appearing. She rubs her eyes as she worriedly asks if I'm alright. I muster a faint smile, taking her by the shoulder gently as we retreat to the bedroom. She asked me if something had happened, if there was something wrong, but I merely shook my head and fell onto the mattress. 
 
 There would be other nights for an explanation, but for now, I was too tired to speak.
