HUNTING SILENCE

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I hate the silence. The way it screams with its hands. How it reaches out to choke me. Vile words strung together and placed around my throat just long enough to make me feel its presence.

I hold my breath trying to outlast it. Trick it into letting go. But silence is smart. It’s strong. It’s a monster made up of all the monsters.

It opens its mouth and lets all the voices I’ve ever heard speak their deception into me.

It opens its hands and lets me breath so that I can smell the past creeping into my brain.

It opens its eyes so I can see their faces. Faces I can’t forget, their acerbic smiles laughing at me and their disappointed eyes waging war with me.

Silence isn’t silent.

Silence is a killer.

I hate the silence.

That’s why I welcome noise.

But today…

I’m hunting a killer and I am cutting off its hands.

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2 thoughts on “HUNTING SILENCE

  1. How goes the hunt? When I think upon silence here, I ponder what trees sing their sweetened songs on the wind best. Here it is Belahes and She-oaks, the trees of creeks and coasts.

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