Forbidden Music
There are songs I know to not listen to when I am alone.
The ghost of my dead twin taps me on the shoulder, and I curl over in my bed. Spine poking through my skin, the beat of the drums on the blanket over my head, my heart thumping underneath. The smoke from my cigarette echoing against the ceiling, halting then retreating in long, swirling shadows on my skin. Repeating, breathing patterns, transparent and fleeting. I fight sleep; I do not want to sleep like this.
Songs like these amplify the loneliness. In the daylight, I can blast it against the wall like a fallout shadow; in the hours before dawn, when a handful of birds begin to sing and everything else is still, I feel the most disconnected and restless. I wonder if anybody knows I exist.
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Author's Note
I found this in my notebook, dated from the end April. I don't remember writing it, but I know which song it is.
Other stories by Brianne Fidgety
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I know that lonely time of morning when the mockingbird sings in the silence. You nailed the desolation of night perfectly. Peace...
Such a strong opening line, and the rest follows suit. "In the hours before dawn, when a handful of birds begin to sing..."
Yeah. Strong piece. And I like that you don't remember writing it, but you know which song it is.
Enjoyed reading this peice. Great voice.
In the daylight, I can blast it against the wall like a fallout shadow;
Very nice.