I spy with my little eye, something beginning with you. That's right sweetheart; I can see you. Clear as crystal. Look at your eyes darting round the room like flies… You won't find me. You never check behind your curtains, but there's a tiny slit perfect for peering in at you. Shh… listen. Hear that tap-tap-tapping? That's my yellowed fingernails drumming on your window. I'm itching to come inside. A gentleman would ask politely for entrance, but I'm no Romeo. I clutch a knife in a fist, where bunched flowers should be. Don't worry, it'll be red like roses soon.
by Katie Eve McGuigan
Independent Entry - Clackmannanshire
Competition - Spine-Chillers
Copyright remains with the author.