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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Southern Oracle" data-source="post: 7649575" data-attributes="member: 1249">Words. Words are the most annoying part of existence.  They worm their way into your consciousness, squirming and wriggling until you pay attention to them.  They tug at the fiber of your being, demanding satisfaction, but you don’t know what they want.  You don’t know what to give them to make them go away.  To make them be silent.  To make them let you sink back into the soothing embrace of silence… “Blast it all, there’s no sun in this stinking place!  How am I supposed to tell what time it is?”  The elf looked around for someone to ask for help, but everyone he laid eyes on avoided his gaze and crossed to the other side of the street.  The elf sneered at the people’s cowardice, straightened his robe, and started scanning the buildings for a business of some kind.  He spied a promising sign and headed in its direction. Pictures. Pictures are comforting.  Pictures don’t demand attention – their very nature requires patience, study, and concentration.  A picture is worth a thousand words.  Annoying, buzzing, screeching words.  What do they want?  Give me pictures.  Pictures wait to be explored.  Pictures wait for their meaning to be fathomed.  Words demand attention.  I hate words.  I wish the words would stop.  Especially those words… The elf pushed the door open; somewhere, a small bell tinkled.  “Excuse me!  Is there anyone here?  I’m a stranger to your fair city, and I was wondering if I could ask a question.” A curtain rippled and the proprietor was there before the elf, all smiles and handshakes and silken fur.  “Fair?  I’m afraid there’s nothing fair about the Cage, good sir, although we residents wouldn’t trade it for all the tea in Cathay.  No, I’m afraid there’s nothing fair here.”  The proprietor regarded the elf with an analytical gaze and then shook his head in disapproval.  “Take the amulet you wear, for instance.  It is the symbol of our city and yet wearing it will surely be the death of you.  You would do well to remove it immediately.” The elf snorted.  He stroked the amulet resting on his chest lovingly, glancing down at its face.  “I am not afraid.  My love and devotion will protect me.” It was the proprietor’s turn to laugh.  “Your love and devotion will get you killed, but who am I to argue?  The customer is always right.  How may I help you today?” The elf dug into the pocket of his robe and produced a piece of parchment.  Smoothing it flat on the wall beside him, he pointed at the message.  “I’m supposed to be at this place by ‘Peak,’ whatever time of day that is.” “Ah yes.”  The proprietor never stopped smiling, but somehow his toothy visage turned sad.  “The park is just around the corner, and it’s about 10 minutes until Peak.  I suppose you should hurry if you really want to go.” The elf quickly stuffed the parchment back into his pocket and stepped out into the street.  “Oh yes!  I definitely want to be there!  Thank you!  Thank you very much!”  He hurried around the corner, pausing just a moment to look at the shop’s sign once more.  “Well, he certainly lived up to his shop’s name, didn’t he?  The creature never stopped smiling!” Away. It’s so much easier to steer the words away from me.  They come at me from all sides, stinging me with their persistence like ravens pecking at a knight of the post on a leafless tree.  Put up a wall.  Move a door.  Brick by brick, move them away from me.  They’re quieter now.  I can stand the pain.  I can concentrate on the picture.  The picture.  The Big Picture… The elf joined his fellow worshippers in the park, bowing and shaking hands as he moved through the crowd.  Everywhere he looked, people had the same amulet he wore – had the same robes he wore.  Some had more elaborate dress, all spikes and blades.  He smiled in rapture, happy there were others like him.  It was good to belong.  It was good not to be alone.  It was good to have faith in something. Somewhere in the distance, a gong marked the passage of time.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  The crowd quieted and turned its attention as one to a figure at its center.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.  With a gesture, musicians started playing a discordant tune, at once disturbing but hauntingly beautiful.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  The crowd lifted its collective voice in song, and the elf beamed with joy as he joined in as loud as he could. Words. Words.  Words! Words! There are too many of them – I can’t block them!  They scream at me in some unknown tongue, a language I can’t fathom.  What do they want?!?!  STOP!  Make them stop!  I can feel them slicing through me.  They want something.  They’ll dissect me to find it.  I don’t have it!  Go away!  Leave me alone!  I have to make the words……STOP! A shadow fell over the park, turning the ruby-colored jewels decorating the wrought iron fence into ashen orbs.  The singing faltered as the light dimmed, then turned to screams of terror.  People tried to escape, but the press of bodies was too insistent – the shadow too penetrating – and blood flowed as bodies fell.  The singing stopped.  The shadow drifted along, jagged tendrils like serrated knives scraping the stone below.  It turned a corner and vanished, leaving nothing but silence. Ah. The sounds of silence…</blockquote>

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