A sign

What is death? Is it the smell of mildew and stagnant water? Is it the sound of rattling,rattling,rattling chains? Is it the feel of ice that slithers upon the spine? What is death? Is it the presence of mumbling? Is it the presence of ranting? Is it the soft whimpers turned into low muted screams? Death is the bringer of crushed spirits and diminished dreams. Death is the loss of life. It is that creature. The one that slithers out of nightmares. The one that winds around the body. Death is there before you can even stand. See those little beady eyes drawing closer? See the mouth open wide, tongue flickering in and out? See those awfully sharp teeth? It is the only thing truly crushing you and me. Death is fear. Always born from death. Always born to be death.