The Pleasure of Silence (A Flash Fiction)

Before I clutch the tattered blankets he has given me, I pray that the wolf will only rest outside the room—from time to time, will only look through the cracked lines of the window.

I stare outside the lonesome darkness; the moon sings the hauntingly beautiful tune of a cycle. The rise and fall of its voice match the consistent fear swimming in my veins.

I brush away the blood remains upon my lips. The pain on my cheeks lingers and consumes my empty face; the slap has been a blow into my guts.

I curl my toes as I control my breathing. The rush of the rivers surges down to the sides of my face. Everything comes into a blur.

I hear a door creak just outside my bedroom and I hold my breath. All of a sudden, footsteps ascend—coming closer and closer. I turn my eyes to the door. The knob shakes before it turns.

I pretend to sleep.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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