He was the last of his kind,
The motional leech
Living on the chaos
Caused by telepathic speech.
They drifted through the darkness
Whispering through the night,
Touching and reducing hope
Until the advent of the light.
As the early morning rays,
Precursor of the dawn,
Swept away the fears
With a bright spring morn
The whisperer ceased his whispering
Realising that time was too late
For any mischief to be caused.
So filed away his words of hate.
Today he would sleep hungry,
But he knew his time was near
When he would find a victim
And feed upon their fear.
No blood sucking Vampyre he
Just the whispering kind
Living from the emotions
His words stirred in the mind.
He slipped through the shadows,
Through the crypt gate,
Into the musky darkness
Hunger would have to wait.
