Three Stairs Creaked

There was the first, then the second; two stairs creaked
Hairs bristle on flesh as anxiety's reached
Reflected an image of a candle wax statue
Empty lost eyes where nothing refracts through
Exhale held breath and tighten a towel
Seek refuge in the warmth of a semi-damp cowl
That was the third! Three stairs creaked!
And now funereal fear has reasoning leeched
Interned by the terror and trapped in a bathroom
Repulsed by the ignorance of what might creep in the vacuum
Sucking in air, now that hysteria's got its hand in
Cloaked in the silence, what lurks on the landing?
Reach out with a clammy hand to the door handle lever
Easing it down with a head burning fever
And now every hair bristles on rippling cold flesh
Knowing, for sure, that madness will quickly infest
Ebbing light flees, to the void, through the door
Dead eyes reflect back, from a life long before...

...sometime, somewhere, three stairs creaked