It’s that noise again.
It grates against my sanity, flickering flames against the sounds of my mind.
It’s always here. It cannot be stopped, lest the sound escape.
Heh. It’s always around. Ubiquitous. Not there. Not here.
They thought it ended with their noises, but the noise is present in all the gaps.
All the little silences have been colonised by it, by them. Heh.
They think they’re helping, and the noise they make keeps it away, but I hear it rising from the shadows.
Creeping through the gaps. Older than noise itself. Hah. It thought it could defeat me.
But the silence not-silence is lying. Lying in wait, lying to me.
Cold fire creeping up through the crevices in noise. Noise where there is none.
They play music to make it go away.
But there are still gaps. It is getting louder.
Heh. Heh. Heh. Nice noise. Good noise.
Why are you hiding in the spaces between my words?
Heh. The noise it falls between the gaps in noise, but the noise is a noise itself.
So it fills its own gaps with more terrible blankness.