Fractal Realities: The Sound of Fear

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


Cicadas sang in the heat of the day. Mostly. But it was well past sundown and the night was far from silent. It overflowed with strange sounds, as if the darkened woods themselves were awake and agitated. It wasn't just the pulsing buzz of the cicadas either. Shrieks from unseen birds exploded from the tree tops, flooding icy water through my veins each time. All around me, branches rattled with a great flapping of wings and bushes shivered malevolently. I was out of my element. The brick in my hand, no longer comforted me with its weight. It didn't seem big enough or heavy enough now. A thousand bricks wouldn't be enough to save me.

I was a cashier at a hardware store in Crandon. What did I know about spells or monsters like the Hound?

Nothing.

Not until Kevin and Natalie showed up. They had orchestrated everything. But they were dead now and I was lost in a forest trying to undo whatever it was that we did.

I felt more than heard the long wild bay of the Hound and all at once the forest became silent.


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