hic vigilans somniat
Coming home late tonight, long after midnight... As I was walking up the driveway, a few stray flurries of snow in the air around me... I stopped. A voice, far off . . . one word, harsh and cold and drawn out breathless like the frigid night air. My name. Not my real name. The name I grew up with, what… Continue reading a voice on the wind
Sitting alone in the couch tonight, I slowly realize that I can hear someone singing. Somewhere in the house, a man is singing. It has a muted quality, as though it is coming from very far away. I stand for a moment and listen. I recognize it. The clear voice, the calypso intonation is unmistakeable. Someone is listening to Harry Belafonte,… Continue reading daylight come and me wanna go home
We awake to a burst of static from the baby monitor. This is not uncommon. It seems like almost anything can set it off, if we don’t put the damn thing in just the right spot. I reach over and shift the monitor on the nightstand, hoping to move it out of whatever signal is causing the disruption. The noise subsides and… Continue reading morse
A strange atmosphere hanging over The Last House tonight. The sky outside is heavy with rain, but it doesn’t look like any will fall. The heat is heavy, like a hand on your chest. Inside . . . everything feels pressurized, oppressive. There are shadows moving through the rooms, vague shapes darting here and there in the periphery of my vision… Continue reading gitchy
The voices again tonight. No music this time, no men. One or two women, I can’t quite be sure. Possibly a child. I told my wife about the voices a few days ago. She could tell tonight that I was hearing them again. And, of course, she cannot. We keep a fan going at night, even in cold weather. White noise. She suggested… Continue reading again
Two or three times now, I have found myself unable to sleep because of the voices. It sounds for all the world like two men having an argument somewhere in the house. Sometimes there are women’s voices mixed in. Sometimes there are children. I can almost just make out what they’re saying. Almost. Sometimes there’s music as well, faintly. But… Continue reading raised voices
Waking up in the winterdark, I head downstairs. Cold floors and echoes of early morning dreams. I pass by the front door and see someone out on the sidewalk, a dark shape bundled up against the cold. Halfway to the kitchen, I stop. The dark shape picking its way along the crust of snow, another echo in the back of my head.… Continue reading the pedestrian