Silence.
It can chill the marrow of your bones:
It can run deep in your veins.
It can be good,
but, can it control you?

Silence is nothing but a mere puppet,
in everyone’s existence.
But, how?
Where?

I surge into the cold abyss,
Rushing the blood to my head until my ears go
pop.
It was me.
It always is.
I had no reason to take her from silent sleep.
Dragged her into the unforgiving dream.

My niece is a victim of my abuse

I thrived and desired the thrill.
The curse crashed over me,
surrounding me, like a fish caught in a hemp net.

I am done for.

Wait.

A pale, lingering finger
Clutching the battered wood
Vein pulsing outward,
as blue lines are stenciled down her wrist
I stand:
motionless.

Suddenly, the curse overpowers,
The hissing noises pound in my ears,
Foam starts forming at the edges,
A shell arises from the stream.

Two people sit on the edge,
one, holding an apple, the other with golden hair
“Is this adventure, or betrayal, you decide.”

In an instant they were gone.
Piles of debris lay around the finger.
Goodbye.
I unlatch the finger sending her shooting down,
into the unknown.
I would call that adventure.