The night is quiet.
Far too quiet,
And the silence is...

Monstrous.
It's a beast, a demon,
And the only weapon
Is a whisper.

Not voice, voice just
Strengthens him.

No... just a whisper,

A ghost of a word,
A ghost of a scream.

That will do it.
That will **** him.

But be careful,
He bleeds echoes.
Bleeds them like daggers,
Spits them like venom.

His blood is diseased,
Those echoes are infected.

Please don't fall ill.
Please don't fall silent.

The only way
To slay the silence is to

hush.

After he leaves-

Leaves? Yes, he only leaves,
He does not die.
Not truly.
Silence can never really die.

So after he leaves,

Then you can scream.
Then you can scream,
Splash your voice on the walls.

Stain the dirt,
Stain the trees,
Stain the Earth with it.
Then stain the sky,
Stain the heavens.
Make the clouds
taste your breath.

Spill your voice,
Your soul-soaked words,
And drench all life,
From the snails to the birds.

Stain their tears,
Stain their eyes,
Stain their lips,
Stain their lies.

Make the stars beg for more,
Make the air beg for less.
Mark your territories,
And keep him at bay.
Don't let the night fall
Too close to the day.

But he'll always lurk,
And his wounds will scar,
But the echoes still
Run through his veins.

He's still diseased.

Still waiting to attack
The world and make all silent.
And make all dead.
He'll have your head.
He'll rip your voice out,
Through your throat.
He'll drink your words
From your neck
Like a straw.

Kind of like a butterfly
Drinking nectar
From a flower.

He'll drain you of any sliver, any
Hint of soul-soaked whisper,
Any drop left of your voice.

He'll drain you, and you'll
Have no choice
But to fall victim to the silence.

Fall victim to the echo.

That's all he is,
That all silence will ever be.
An echo soul
With a shadow body.

He is not null,
He is not nothing.
He is the boomarang,
The ricochet of a voice.

Some poor voice so long ago,
Screamed so loud,
Now doomed to be an echo.

Doomed to be silent,
But never gone.

Just remains, traces,
Footsteps, claw marks,
Leftovers of a voice once so loud.

So loud, it vanished,
Leaving an outline.

Leaving a ghost
To haunt the voiceless.
Preying on quiet,
Spreading the silence through echoes.

Until you hush.

Whispers can **** him,
But he cannot die.
The echoes will bleed from him,
And away he will fly.

And the echoes will follow
Like shadowy ghosts.
And they hide and they latch
onto unwilling hosts.

They'll watch from the night,
Just wondering why
Why you are filled with such
Terrible fright.

Why do we fear the silence?
Why are we scared of the dark?
Why do we hide from what we do not know?
What we cannot see, or hear... Or
What we cannot hold?

We fear them, the echoes, the
Empty, the unknown.
We fear them because we
Can never know.

But it's dangerous to know
Because to know is to die-
Because sometimes to live
You have to **** your mind.

That's why we fear the silence,
Because it means we cannot know.

We don't understand what knowing can do.

Thats why a certain volume of absolutely nothing
Can tear you to shreds,
Can rip off our heads,
While saving our lives.

And the beasts,
The echoes
The silence,
And shadows
All know.

They know,
They know,
They know.

So hush.

-m.b