It’s Always In The Quiet That We See Noise

“Like one of those roundabout animations. You know the ones I’m talking about, where you stick a heaps of sequential drawings together on the inside a cylinder and spin it around like the worlds going to go out of style and you get the illusion that whatever you drew moves,” the boy says nervously.

“You’d drawn,” a voice says from somewhere within the darkness.

“S-Sorry?” He asks as he nervously rubs his wrists, momentarily soothing the rawness that was created by the handcuffs earlier.

A mustached man leans forward into the light whilst placing a cigarette in his mouth. They stare into each other’s eyes until the nervous young man looks away, and the mustached man smiles as he ignites a match, lighting his cigarette.

“You said you drew, but it should’ve been you’d drawn,” he says taking a long drag on the cigarette before blowing the smoke into the boys face.

His eyes well-up, stinging sharply as he tries to catch a breath of unpolluted air. “W-W-What?” He gasps, coughing violently.

The mustached man smiles as he leans back into the darkness, taking a drag on the cigarette once more. The room glows with a volatile red as the embers of the cigarette surge to life, and the boy wets himself immediately, slowly raising his hand into the air and pointing to the darkness beyond the man with trembling lips.

The mustached man raises an eyebrow as he feels a coldness touch his back followed moments later by a decaying stench that cuts into each nostril like a knife, and then it speaks….

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