And so it begins...

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A thick blanket of still hot air was all that covered her when she woke, the pillow beneath her head damp with sweat, tears, or a drunken drool, or a mixture of all three. It had come on her so suddenly the previous evening, just inside the door, her keys spilling from her hand onto the small oak endtable there. Wave after wave of emptiness tearing her happy memories of the last few hours away and wracking her body with spasms of grief. Resonless and baseless but agonizing all the same, some strange night terror. Now Julie was wide awake, cocooned in the safety of her bedroom on a hot mid-summers day, and while night had long fled she could feel the terror still there.
posted by Ivar Soever on 7/13/2000 9:33:53 PM | ©

20000710

It was yesterday, or maybe the day before, when he first heard it. Lying oh so still, marvelling at the perfect silence of his bedroom. At first he wondered what it could be, so muffled, so distant. He listened close for a moment of forever and it became unmistakably a cry, a keening. Was it because he had never before phyisically heard it, or was it just that he had grown so used to it's presence that he had ceased to notice it? In truth it was likely yes, on both counts. For Edward could no longer, if ever he could have, remember a day, when, at the deepest core of his being, he was not screaming.
posted by Ivar Soever on 7/10/2000 11:36:52 PM | ©