Death Only Manifests Through Fear

In the dead of the night on a summer's eve,
creeping creaks wakes mind's eye;
alertly darting for danger's presence
actively searching for an essence
the instincts heighten, the body tightens
the whisperer came to me.

Frozen wind seeped through the sheet,
stinging paralysis embraced my feet,
my sanity seized, hands arrested,
abrupt courage, I protested,
"W-who are you? What do you want from me?
This fright alters me cold and weak;
I beckon you, please do speak
for what you say could betray,
I beg, benevolence and mercy!"

A silence ensued, a deadly pause,
like a moment preceding the falling knife,
my eyes flashed open, it was the omen,
the omen that makes its mark.
There it stood, hooded and grim,
frost emanating from the blackest of dark;
with one swift motion, I saw the ocean,
came the red sea in a thick, crescent arc.