Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2017
In the quiet
I hear the mumbling sounds of muffled words
The voices of strangers
Not close enough to understand
But the vibration
The tinkering richness that comes from spoken word
Flicker across the drum
Quick
Like sounds of life outside a car window
It vanishes
He hears it too, shooting off
A rocket across the bed
His soul green eyes flinging off the light of headlights
Ears stretched wide
It comes again
My mind straightens up
The body ridged..
Hoping to hear that mad sound again
Wanting it to make sense
Like so many t.v. shows
Debunk the mystery..
It does not return..and only the goose flesh
Plus the sentry movement of yet another feline convinces me it was real..
Moved into a home built in the 40s..at least 3 known people have perished at this location...there are likely more. All good people all easy non violent deaths. But I've been hearing echos..
Emily Jones
Written by
Emily Jones  25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR
(25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems