Silence in the Suburbs

The oppressive quietude would augment any natural noise, if it dared exist on this road. Even the wind dare not shudder the trees nor shift the fallen leaves among the stiff shrubs. 

Each law-breaking step brings you closer to dark abyss, pressing against your overwhelmed flashlight, until you encounter the singular street lamp. The sudden circle of light would shock the senses were they not already shocked by the lack of sensation. Instead of bearing comfort, the light coldly washes over you, trickling ominously down your back and prickling the hairs on the back of your neck.

In such dead silence, some people hear only their own heartbeat. Here, where you are suddenly aware of each ion of your being, your heart feels as though it dare not beat, it dare not break through the silence lest it bring down the wrath of this abnormal nature upon you.

The solemnity, the inherent wrong, of a stretch of land where birds will not nest, squirrels will not scamper, and your breath barely ekes out for fear of giving you away, reveals a pocket in which the balance of nature is horribly and wickedly warped.

(c) Todd Hido