I've witnessed death weave its way into my life. Her whispers frighten me every time her trailing words reach my ears. Her silent figure, approaching me, as I stand, watching, in the cracked mirror. Her breathing against my skin, tickles me until I realize that she is what she is. A ghost. A corpse. A figure from the grave. A gift of the devil. A murderer. Her passion for control and invading a life has been secured but her chosen path is me.
I live my life in fear of her appearance, her cackle-which is so quiet yet wicked-though she is has relation to a witch, she is something no one could detect; apart from me. It's grown too powerful, she's grown too powerful. She wants to relive her life, her past, with my body. It's going to happen...soon. From her explanations, I have discovered, it was not only me and it was not only me to have an ending of such a treacherous and premature death. The chosen people who suffered, rise up for revenge. Revenge towards anyone...and now it's my turn. It's not optional, though, they are "hypnotized" to do the things they do, presently, and if she ever achieves her goal on me, which I think she will, like the rest have, I'll be next to kill.
Her appearance alters every day I see her to something I may want and when there is nothing I am eager for wanting, she is herself which scares the living daylights out of anyone, if they could see her. A deformed woman, grey and colour drained with sulking eyes and drooping lips. Her stringy hair, grey and white and not to mention her dark soul which is iced over like an ice age that has bombarded her life. That's why I don't mind seeing people that I want to see instead of her-but it's not always pleasant. And that explains the personal life hacker which will swallow my soul and life and care for anything in less than a month. This is my life.