Silence
Silent hills waving to the right or left with each warm summer breeze.
The quarter moon casting it's dim light on the shallow river behind the old long forgotten faded blue 1946 Chevy pickup.
The occasional hoot form the owl living in the attic of an abandoned home. The signs of a tragedy evident in the scares of fire.
The few trees behind the house fan their branches wide, trying to engulf the ashen past.
While the one tree to the upper left stretches its mouth wide. Seeming to scream of what it's old eyes have seen. It's old leafless branches stretching into the night sky, hoping for life.
All is silent save the occasional hoot of the owl and the ever present flow of the shallow stream.
"Mama? Papa?" squeaks a girls voice, you can tell she's just a child by the evident concern heard.
"Whoo, Whoo" replies the lone owl, it's golden eyes searching for a midnight snack.
After a moment of silent peace the padding of feet is heard, the all to well known sound of a child's bare feet smacking against wood floors, terror filling the empty space.
"Davi? Jacque?" the child calls out, frantic now. The smell of fire filling the air and mixing with the terror.
Another moment of silence, the lone owl finally snatching it's prey.
A soft breeze bending the tall grass right and swaying the leaves of the two trees behind the old house.
Then screams disturb the night, seeming to come from the abandoned home. Menacing laughter mixing in with the painful, tormented screams.
The sounds of people running, banging frantically die down as the snaps and pops of fire are singled out, yet their is no fire.
Then nothing, all is tranquil again.
Another breeze bending the the right, clearing dead leaves piled in front of fire stones.
The names Mary, Edward, David, Jacquese, and Selma finally printed on each.
The names of the family who died in the fire.
stare
