Escaping Silence

This song inspired this particular piece. I have some plans for dear old Dan.....

Cassy was quickly running out of hallway and light. She slowed herself and the only audible was her winded breathing but inside her mind still echoed the thunderous footsteps of the maniac that had killed everyone, everyone but her. For a few more relaxed breaths she would rest, but was far from safe.

The hunt was becoming tedious. Myles had erased most of the names as he silenced their voices on Earth. The young lady was the last one – Cassy. His blood-caked glove pushed open the kitchen entrance to continue searching for the deviled misfit. Her voice needed to be silenced. Myles needed to sleep.

Cassy kneeled low before dipping her head around the corner, checking for the psycho – nothing to find but more carpet leading down another dimly lit passage, and for being a seaside resort she couldn’t believe the lack of windows in an inn as gigantic as the Haveshum, but she felt a spit-worth of hope when she came across the stairs leading downward. It was familiar to her, and anything familiar felt like a way out.

When there were multiple voices, Myles could function suitably, but when there was a single drone buzzing throughout his consciousness the harsh memories flashed in front of him, the memories of grandmother and grandfather listening to their radio all day long everyday. As a toddler lost in his own mind inside his crib he could hear the talk radio from the living room. Occasionally, one of them would enter his room to feed and change him, but always with them did they bring their radio god until the day Grandma and Grandpa stopped appearing, yet their radio kept talking. They would rather listen to their silly radio god. Then, increasingly more flies began to appear particularly when the putrid stench consumed the household. And then, the men in uniforms appeared and took him away from the voices. But the voices followed him. Whenever he turned on a radio, the voices would regenerate, but now the voices spoke names. They were the names of the wicked and the guilty, the kind of wretched decadents that Grandma and Grandpa said his mother was because she refused to listen to the word of their radio god, and they needed to be punished. Myles would write their names and silence their voices.

The lobby was a sweet sight. Cassy leapt off the third stair step on to the floor and sprinted for the open door leading outside. Once her feet touched the sand she could sense salvation’s nearness. Her voice cried “thank you” aloud to anyone listening, but as she tried to cry out again she couldn’t muster any words, and she slowed to complete halt which was when she felt warmth trickling down her body and as she gazed down she witnessed a crimson flood powering down her shirt. Cassy reached behind her neck and felt the knife handle emanating from the back of her throat. Her body could no longer create tears for Cassy to cry. Her voice had been silenced because Myles had been listening the entire time.