Madura Muraleetharan (11) – STAFF REPORTER
Nobody knows about the bodies in my walls. There are so many of them. Their rotting stench ghosts into and infests my very mind. Some of them are raw, fresh. I can feel their warmth through the layers of insulation, drywall, and paint. Their downtempo heartbeats pulse throughout the whole room. A whimper. A sniff. A final beat. You can practically hear their eyelids latch closed, their eyelashes brushing their cheekbones.
And then, silence. A great big watery silence that drowns and suffocates you then grabs you by the collar, shaking your shoulders, fiery spit flying everywhere for more, more, More, MORE! But sometimes you can’t hear the silence because of the bodies. Oh, the bodies. The bodies. They whisper.
Sometimes as faint as a light wind and sometimes harsh, loud, and smokey. But they whisper. “I know, I know, I know,” they chant. You can see their skeletal smiles in the breeze that their voices glide on. They know, they know. They know.
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What they know of what I know, I don’t know. But I know they know. They know. They know, with their largo heartbeats. They know with their death-sprayed flesh, with their hell-forged words. They know and they whisper. From one to another to another and to another again, and then out loud, and then at me, and then to me.
“I know, I know, I know.” But what could you know? What could you possibly know? You’re dead, you’re dead, board-stiff, mind-numbingly dead! You’re dead! I watched your light falter before blowing it out, I felt your lukewarm blood run down in rivers in the cracks of my skin. You’re dead, you’re dead! Dead. Dead and buried and silent, as you should stay. But you don’t. God, if you could. But you don’t. You whisper and giggle and titter, and then whisper and giggle, and whisper and whisper and titter and whisper, about me. At me. Stop it! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, make it stop, go away, get away, stay away! Out, out, out I say! You’re dead. Dead. That is what you are. Gone. Dead. And you’ll stay that way. In the walls. Silent. Dead.
“I know, I know, I know.”
