From as early as I can remember, I often dreamed of a masked, cloaked figure outside my window. I could see the shadowy semblance of a face pressed to the rain soaked window and damp hands tapping into the glass as it peered into my room with a long pause.
It seemed to watch over me and remained the same over the years. I revisited the dream many years later, the shadowy figure holding court at the foot of the imposing antebellum staircase right outside my bedroom. The last time I saw the figure, he slowly disappeared as he opened his cloak, revealing a dark chasm that enveloped the naked women writhing at his feet. It was the scariest dream I've ever had.