Silence is an all encompassing no sound beneath the underness of it all where sound is born just to die again- where all is born to promise of death and other unknowns- silence rests below that hum, that ceaseless machinery hum of cold night furnace warmth and all other homely groans and sighs of exertions on behalf of inhabitants within- here nature is halted, kept out, and forgotten in its arctic indifference while in warm beds warm heads shelter theatres of subpsychological films waiting to begin until they do and then “life” is lived behind shut eyes and otherness shadow imagery says its piece six times in a surreal trance unknown upon awakening to bewilderment new and old.
And dreams recede when the cool winds of wakefulness begin to stir.
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Midnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
By Alexander McEvoy5 days ago in Fiction
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