A small extract from a story I’m working on:
“The mind will not let itself tolerate silence for long. I do not mean the quiet mumbling in a theatre as the stage is illuminated before a show; or the gentle pitter patter of rain on a bedroom window. Still, Absolute, Silence. When the air becomes tense and rigid like a millpond in the early morning. Moments like that the mind will seek to fill that hollow void with tricks of its own. Fleeting memories of music. Voices speaking words they never spoke, whispering secrets they never shared. All tied together with meaningless sounds as if it was desperately holding onto the recollection of the missing sense so as not to lose it.
Standing there underneath the cool, flickering light of a pair of cast iron street lamps the city felt as if it had just taken a deep breath, awaiting patiently the onslaught of noise the dawn would bring…”
