A shadow slips through Woodsboro mist,
With a jagged blade and a deadly twist.
A shroud of silk as black as night,
And a frozen face of porcelain white.
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” he sighs,
As terror reflects in his victim’s eyes.
The phone rings out with a hollow chime,
To mark the end of your borrowed time.
He isn’t a monster or ghost of the past,
Just a deadly secret behind the mask.
So lock every door and check the hall,
Before the Ghostface comes to call.