Sharp as rust...

There's that awful taste again, sharp as rust, wrapping around my tongue.
Worse, I'm no longer alone.
Impossible.
Not impossible.
This time it's human.
Maybe not.
Extremely long fingers.
A sucking sound too. Sucking on teeth, teeth already torn from the gums.
I don't know how I know this.
But it's already too late, I've seen the eyes. The eyes. They have no whites. I haven't seen this. The way they glisten they glisten red. Then it begins reaching for me, slowing unfolding itself out of the corner, mad meat all of it, but I understand. These eyes are full of blood.
Except I'm only looking at shadows and shelves.
Of course, I'm alone.
And then behind me, the door closes.

-Mark Z. Danielewski