Listening to the silence drumming in my ears

the sounds of nothing, humming and droning

a perpetual dread.

A lonely song.

It has a sense of tranquility, really

the peace of being alone

the peace of white noise.

This is when I can hear my heartbeat

My own beat,

My own rhythm,

My own life.

Listening to the silence music of solitude

listening to the vibrations,

Feeling the footfall and the voices from the cracks

from under the floor

The sounds of screaming and death just beyond me

just stopping.

They’ve gone now,

Leaving a trail of blood and tears

in search for the minority-

Ripping futures from the children

Throwing the past into the fires;

But now that they’ve gone…

I’m left alone in my void-

My perpetual dread.

Alone in silence.


That is when the voices begin.


Turning the Corner

Spring is no longer around the corner- but its weather (or at least down in Texas) is still lagging behind.
Ah, spring. The season of blossoming allergies and the return of pollen and bees, creatures that defy the very laws of physics with their tiny wings completely non-proportional to their very bodies.

But alas, after the long, uneventful Winter comes a new Spring.

And what better to celebrate with amateur horror stories?

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