Echoes of the past scream on. This pulsation of heinous sound… sound that screeches into my ears!   Echoes of those who scream… This invisible crowd that follows me… Voices! Auditory torments!   Echoes of memory and psychosis… The two entwined like vines over a grave… Bound...

© 2025 I am home now, alone in my “office.” I use quotes around it, because we know it isn’t really an office. It is the mudroom. I have a table with a fairly new plywood top. There is...