Cold, lonely, dark, are the nights that she spends in the frigid. Microphone, a being of metal and electric wiring, must bundle with blankets woolen and dry. The light—or lack thereof—she doesn't have a solution for.
In all honesty, Microphone is unsure if she's even capable of creating lasting solutions; solutions that matter. She opts to sleep in the cold by circumventing the cold of her body; she opts to treat the wildlife like companions rather than create meaningful connection; she opts to the blind of the night and the figurative alarm of the Sun shaking her awake through gaps of leaves and branches. What is settling but being comfortable without a solution?
She is cold, lonely, and in the dark, and she has been for awhile.
And then, there is the noise.
Microphone, despite her loud and raucous nature, is afraid of foreign noises. A noise she does not recognize yields possibilities she is not prepared to deal with. A noise she does not recognize deafens and surrounds, until it fills her being and echoes on and on. A noise she does not recognize is a noise to be afraid of.
The noise is indifferent.
She sleeps on her right side, and her left hand covers her head.
The noise continues every night thereafter.
YOU ARE READING
the noise.
FanfictionMicrophone has a realization. A story about things that go said and things that don't.
