His glossy teeth

He leers over me, his shiny teeth glinting in the full moon. I think I'm on a rooftop, and I can hear faint explosions coming from all around me, near and far. He's staring through me, and I can't move; want to scream but fear holds me in place. Then, ever so slowly, his mouth opens, wider, wider and wider, until the skin splits and his jaw is broken. Now I'm covered in a drip, drip, dripping of warm black blood, which strangely has no smell. I begin to drag myself across the rooftop, using just my upper body as my legs are useless. He's on his knees now, trying to put his face back together, with his elbows at strange angles. I come to the edge, and look down to see burning houses, and somebody is holding a baby aloft, trying to keep little sharp teeth from eating it. There's screaming and shouts of desperation. The wall down to the ground is now slick with his mucous, and I slide down to the ground.