The Sound Of Silent Earworms
Hate it when a song from the grocery store soundtrack gets caught in my head, but this time of year is the worst. Silent night, yeah it sure is. And nothing damn holy about it. All this calm makes me nervous. It’s too damn quiet. What’s going on? I know it’s snowing, but hell it’s 8 o’clock on a Saturday. None of the comforting rumble of traffic in the street below, no screams of the kids running around next door, no bed thumps of the couple upstairs fucking. Maybe the world ended and nobody told me.
I feel like throwing something across the room just to hear it smash. I didn’t move to the city to hear my own heartbeat. At least in Jersey I had the damn crickets and frogs when it was warm, and all year long the neighbor’s dog barking his head off every time a deer came close.
And then I’d go outside and look up at that sky and it all just went on too damn far. Even with all those stars and planets spinning around up there, the whole thing just added up to the sound of silence. Now there’s a suitable earworm for tonight.
I’m fine living here with just the moon and occasionally Venus or Jupiter on a clear night. And the flooding lights and perpetual hum of all that human activity. It’s like blood flowing in some Beast larger than me.
My mother used to click on the television to keep her company. As she put it, who wants to listen to their own lunch being digested. Me, I don’t want mindless blubbering idiots coming through that screen and into my house right now
Finally, the reassuring swaying moan of a siren emerges from the distance, roars by the building, and is gone again. Somebody’s night has gone very bad. Unfortunate proof that all is in place.
Fifteen of thirty-one stories — 500 words or less, written one-per-day during December 2018 — The Hunt & Peck Parables PatchWord Quilt™©.
© AleXander Hirka 2020. All Rights Reserved.