Etherealism.

My strides were frantically enthused with obtuse celerity, as I paced to my abode that wistful night, and yet I cannot forget that I was not altogether, spatially conscious mainly due to an insufferable paranoia. I only heard the desultory cadence of my floundering footfalls, amidst the great envelope of darkness, however my intuition was impervious at best, despite my dysphoria. I continued to venture the street, wondering, why I felt that uncanny sensation of a scorching eye, upon the back of my neck, to no avail. Whispering a prayer, I raptured into a sprint, emancipating myself from any circumspect, completely engulfed by the throb in my breast, as it resounded ominously like that of the Tell Tale Heart. It was a feverish moment, this inhuman collapse of the spirit, until a sudden epiphany brought me to a sudden halt. Why should the mind be overwrought if it is devoid of any ostensible prospect, what have I to fear, if I cannot divine any assailant, from this raylessness? I started to then amble, and tune my focus towards locating my abode, but then the feeling returned, more demonic than ever, and I felt giddy. My eyes were thrust into the gushing darkness, as I turned to gaze behind me, and there was indeed nothing but the silence of ancient catacombs. I fell to my knees, when i saw it, the sudden wisp of vapour, forming in the air, until there was a humanoid appearance, in its lineaments. It was a woman, but before I could apprise myself sufficiently of the phantasmagoria, the sight suddenly debilitated, as a hooting automobile pierced it into vestigial evanescence, and I barely survived its wuthering onslaught. Only chuckles could be heard, as I lay on the side of the road, anguished by a sharp ache on the side of my neck.