Run.

Amongst the shadows, where nightmares are born. That is where I belong.
I have murdered. I have killed. Things don't stay the same for long.
When I find the person I least expected to see.
Do I run? Do I flee?
Or do I stay and fight?
For I am the rumour of the night...

*Not poetry*
'By the pricking of my thumbs, something big this way comes.' - William Shakespeare