The shadows. They follow. They hiss and gutter in their strange, harsh language. I never turn around for fear that I may see them. They laugh at me… At others… at anyone that catches their interest. The shadows come with me everywhere I go and I can't stop them… Maybe someday they'll go… I see them… Growing… Enlarging with every gasping breath I take, that releases me from this horrible, pitiful life. As they come closer, with their grating laughter, I realize I can understand them… They talk of death, blood, and morbid things that I do not wish to repeat… I look with glassy eyes as I die…slowly… They follow you now.