From Fiction and Sound.

On occasion life gets extremely hellish for 99% of us. Since time is limited and spirits are at its whim I’ve decided to do the unthinkable: expose some of my creative writing. I haven’t really had time to focus on certain blog posts that I’ve been wanting to write about; but since this is a serious blog, I’ve decided to unleash a short, short, short story that I wrote some time ago. I’m slightly freaked out that I’m about to do this. So please: be gentle.

–Let there be not one fiction but many—

The sound carried itself. They could hear it through the wires vibration. It was not like it used to be. Where you could be involved with the message through silence. It carried itself well. Provoking the listeners senses. Establishing its truth near the inner canal. Laying there to be ingested.

They remembered when they passed by the word. The powerful word that filled them. They walked on empty streets that were filled with its power. Now the word was no longer something that lay still in the air. It moved the air. Its power had grown.

Now the sound played daily. Inciting the same feelings in the listener. The repetition of the sound could not be escaped. Through the streets, the alley ways, the sound carried through the walls. The neighbourhood was caught stalling, listening to its pulse. Its feelings were in the air.

Slowly, the sound began to evolve. It grew into an image. The image was born from the word; like a child born with eyes wide open and a high-pitched scream. The child of word grew beyond its sound. The image began to wash over those seated before it. And forever they will always remember those two rays of light in the left hand corner, exposing those words of which involved a hunt, an animal and manipulated truth.

A Truth, forever lost.

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