{"sf1_id":616519,"sf2_id":"ynZXyxqe","title":"Taps","author":"Hato San","words":612,"posted_at":"2013-11-21T04:07:00.000Z","tags":["Short Story"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/616519-taps","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/ynZXyxqe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/7d/82/7d821c5f-b103-40cb-8bd6-a1d6fd7dabb4","description":"#2 of Short Stories\n\nA super short story x3 I just wrote it before going to bed\nI gotta stop reading Edgar Allen Poe before going to sleep, I think it kills my mind xD","content":"Taps  \n  \nI remember how night after night I would turn restlessly, every night my clock would say the same time 4:00 O'Clock on the dot. I lived in the silence, the darkness my chance was in the night really  \non my laptop reading through a blog. Night after night I would sit and read, every word, every sound would crack into my ears in this gentle silence  \nmy gentle silence.  \nThe room would stir and churn, my mind in silence. Quiet, unbroken, whispering silence in my ears again and again and again. In my silence.  \nSlowly I would watch my computer, a glow of the screen drying my eyes again and again, night after night. My world, my life, my blog. When did the noises start? in the silence, the clock always glowed 4:00 O'Clock, the numbers dug claws into my skull, the pain enough to cry out  \nsilence.  \nI would watch and hear and know  \nnothing. Hear in my room, a world of trees behind me; my parents cabin, we would go every summer. This cabin - my world. You see my life is what every teen has, hell. This world is hell.  \nHell... or my  \nsilence.  \nThe red numbers quivered in my sight, no sounds, no silence. Words croaking from my keyboard.  \nTap Tap Tap  \nThe rhythm of letters, a sound of  \nsilence.  \nThe rain should have been enough, the sound typed against the window quietly and sung. Sung the occasional thunder that brought down  \nmy occasional mistake.  \nA misprint, a fault, a break in my post. Eyes dropped grey they never did change, this soulless gaze that copied every section of the page. My clock still crying  \n4:00 O'Clock. My voice in silence  \nquiet  \nunbroken  \nEvery stroke, every word, every sound was silence. A beautiful thing, this silence.  \nA beautiful word on the page.  \n\"I'm Sorry\"  \nThat was my mistake, a simple capital. The silence that croaked out a sound that brought the sheds of tears into the air. The rain falling in silence, the night wind crying out as if the sound, the world crying back \"I'm sorry.\" Here in the silence, the endless tapping of emotionless sounds hidden behind a screen  \na glowing screen like the moon that shone through the window in sudden motionless splender. The sound of tearing, of silence, of a quiet word of endless  \nTap tap tap  \nthe eyes unmoving, can't move, can't see or hear or know  \ndarkness  \nsilence  \nunbroken  \nLying down in silence, rain that sprayed from the window-screen. The spray so warm in the silence. The eyes watching, crying, knowing  \nscreaming  \n4:00 O'Clock.  \nAgain and again and again the numbers registered through my skull, screaming a sound more terrifying than any other  \nsilence.  \nThe hairs stood, goosebumps they say always laughed about. That same feeling you get  \nmaking the occasional mistake  \nSo warm, so warm in the gentle quiet world. The tapping frenzied, scared, silent.  \nAbove all silent with those eyes, those endless unbroken eyes staring, staring through the screen. Staring through my  \nsoul.  \nSo very warm, the tearing, the sound. So loving and gentle right before me. The eyes gorging into mine with hardly a sound  \nor scream  \nYou see, I couldn't speak, only tap, tap, tap. Again and again and again, panicked words, panicked sounds  \ntap, tap, tap  \nagain and again and again, every mistake rewarded with pain and sudden unbroken  \nsilence. I wish I could hear the rain, feel its cold rather  \nthan the blood of my torn and shredded flesh.  \nmy throat, my screen, covered in blood with the eyes  \nthe eyes watching through the screen, tapping and tapping and tapping  \nhere in my cabin room.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Short Stories","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/274781-the-shadowed-canvas-short-story.json"}}