The Tears of the Dead
A wail sounded in the usually quiet neighborhood. Within the dark house, someone flicked on a lamp.
"Hush, baby, hush," A gentle voice cooed in the semi-lit room.
The young woman glanced at a little white alarm clock sitting on the table beside her.
4:15...A.M. The woman groaned as the little child's crying slowed to gasping sobs.
"Did you have another dream?" The woman asked, holding out the sobbing figure to search her tear stained face. The little one sniffled noisily before nodding.
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry.”
"Mama!" The toddler cried when her mother tried to put her to bed. The little girl gripped at her mother’s night gown, afraid to be left. "Sweetie, you must get back to sleep. It was only a dream," The woman soothed in a sweet, calm voice. She kissed the child’s sweaty head and pulled the covers over her daughter, who was already beginning to drowse.
"Mama... please... ma... ma..." The last word was a half snore; the poor child was so tired. The woman sighed and ran her fingers through her hair before turning to go.
The house was quiet, and all the lights were off. The woman had finally fallen back to sleep.
Suddenly, the toddler woke with a start. Her feverish mind made her ignorant to the plight she was in but painfully aware of real but nightmarish pain that shot through her chest. She tried to scream--- she knew her mom would come ---but no sound came out. She couldn’t breathe! She couldn’t scream. Silent tears streamed down her face; her lungs hurt. Why wasn't her mommy coming? Her mommy always came when her chest hurt. Why was she so scared? Why did it hurt so badly? Why couldn't she breathe? The little one's face turned a pale blue.
Then the shadows began to flicker and dance. A figure as dark and hollow as the shadows themselves emerged from the dancing darkness. Terror shot through the trembling, hurting girl. The man from her nightmares had come.
She tried in agonizing defeat to take a breath, to scream. He stepped closer. Darkness shrouded her vision as her lungs screamed for respite. He reached out.
In a final hopeless effort to cry for help, her world turned black. She barely felt deathly cold hands around her as consciousness slipped rapidly from her.
Then it was gone: the pain, the terror, and the flickering shadows. She gasped for the air that had been so hard to get only a moment ago. It felt so good. She whimpered, unable to conjure up the strength to cry for her mom. She shook uncontrollably. She was much too young to understand what death was, and how close she had come to it.
Read it over carefully; the little red marks are hard to read sometimes! 
