The humming voice boomed in their ears the way speakers boom beside you all of a sudden. It was very loud, and George felt like his eardrums will burst if this continued for a few more seconds. His hands slammed themselves on the sides of his face to cover his hears but it did nothing, as if the sound was coming from inside his head, which was improbable because Danny was also covering his ears. Fortunately, the sound weakened into something like a low hum, but didn't go away. George and Danny put their hands down, but remained wary, listening to the sound. George thought he saw something in Danny's eyes, but dismissed it as fear and confusion, even though somewhere deep within him, there was something else. But there was no time to think about it, because George himself was confused. The humming sound, or humming voice was familiar yet he couldn't quite place it. All he was sure of was that the sound brought with it feelings of dread, of sadness, even anger. There was a story that kept barging in his mind, but he couldn't complete the thought yet. He lifted the heels of his palms and pressed them against his eyes. Water wet them, and he knew he was somehow crying. He wasn't sad, he wasn't depressed, but there was a tightening in his guts. He knew it wasn't something good, and for a fact, things like that never was. He also knew what it was, but couldn't bring himself to accept it, as if the truth would deprive him of another breath, and even though that sounded exagerrated to him, he somehow believed that was true. But then the feeling grew stronger inside him, and he was forced to put down his hands and looked at the sky, or in this case, the ceiling of the store, and clenched his teeth. He suddenly covered his mouth with his hands, knowing that a fit of sobbing would consume him. He lowered his gaze and saw Danny seemingly unaffected, but still listening to the sound. George was suddenly hit by something. It wasn't by something physical, but by something that kept forcing its way into his mind. He didn't want to accept it, but he was now sure of what it was.
George Rozier, 42 years old, was afraid.
Then with fear came the story that kept barging in his mind. The story, the nightmare. From around a decade ago.
****
He was looking through the eyes of someone else. The feeling of the body was familiar, yet alien. This wasn't his body, yet he was here. He was looking at a door, a door in a dark room. There was a weak light coming from the bulb before it, and there was nothing else he could see but the door. The head of his body looked around (not with his permission), but darkness was all he could see. Darkness was around him, and he could see nothing, but he felt like he wasn't alone. He moved his hands, or at least tried to, but he couldn't. He tried moving other parts of him, but there was no response. And then he was sure, this wasn't his body. It was just his eyes. His "head" looked down, and he saw a body of a child, sitting on a chair. He realized that he was somehow seeing through the eyes of a child, maybe a ten year old, give or take a year or two. His child-body gave a moaning sound, a sound completely composed of fear, and this fear has projected itself unto him. He COULD feel the fear, and if the fear he was feeling was only a piece of the fear the child felt, then from then he just met a child who probably know what hell is. His borrowed body wriggled in its seat, and he started to feel the sensations on his arms and legs, and seconds later, he was feeling whatever the child was feeling physically. His hands were tied behind his back, his legs were tied together. There was also a rope tied around his chest, probably to make sure that the kid couldn't stand up. He heard a scraping sound to the left and the child's head snapped to that direction, looking for the source of the sound. Of course, there was none he could see. It was too dark. Then the same sound came from the right, and the child's did the same head-snapping movement. George thought, Easy kid, you'll break your neck that way. Then this time, he glimpsed a hand that suddenly retreated to the dark. The kid probably didn't see it, since he didn't make a sound, where George himself consciously let out a quick scream, which didn't manifest itself in any way in this vision. The hand he saw was bony, and it looked like it was devoid of flesh, only skin and bones. It even looked a little more like claw than hand, because the fingernails on them were long and black, but he was pretty sure of the distinction between hand and nails because the hand itself was startlingly pale. It was so pale that it wasn't even white anymore, but closer to gray, a color close to rot and decay. These things he was sure of despite the fact that the hand was gone before a second was done.609Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqSLyfukacY
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Then there was scraping everywhere, and the child's head snapped from left to right to front, in all possible directions while screaming. He was dizzy two seconds later and screamed inside him, "Stop this motherfucking nonsense now, kid. NOW!" 609Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡszvQFNoMqK
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Everything stopped. The sounds, the snapping of the kid's head and the kid's screaming. He was sure that his own screaming wasn't the one that stopped the madness, it was all just a coincidence. And just as how everything stopped, a voice whispered in his ear, "SssssSiiiilenceeeEEeee!", and George screamed again at the same time the kid did. The voice was a thing of nightmares (which this was probably was). It was an old woman's voice, yet it wasn't just one voice whispering in a high pitch whisper, it came with the voice of other women and other children. Not one, but many. But what scared the hell out of George was the one male voice that was undertoned yet very distinct that he knew the voice wanted to be heard. It was a rough, deep voice, on the verge of shouting. George's mind was frozen and confused, not knowing what to think or do, because in his own experience, it was the first time he felt afraid. Afraid of his life, and even afraid of living. And he wanted to divert his mind to something else, but he COULDN'T think of anything else. There was nothing else on his mind. There were no memories, there were no other people he could remember. Zero, nada. And he couldn't shake the feeling that this already doesn't seem like a dream nor a nightmare. Everything seemed so real.
His mind was wandering into the void when the door made a noise. It was a lock being removed from the outside. The door opened, and light boomed into the kid's line of sight, blinding him (and George) momentarily. Before the kid closed his eyes, George caught a glimpse of a large man's silhouette. Then he heard the man's footsteps approach. When the kid opened his eyes, the man's face was inches in front of the child's own. And for the last and final time, George screamed like never before.
And he remembered that that first night of the nightmare nine years ago, when he bolted from his sleep and sat upright, he wasn't feeling good.
In fact, George Rozier, 33 years old that time, wet his bed and shat in his pajamas.
****
Danny was still craning his head a bit from side to side when George's consciousness was stable again. The vision he saw probably lasted a few hours from his point of view, but it seemed like he saw everything in only a matter of seconds. He was afraid again, afraid as he was 9 years ago, when he had the dream that forced him to take Trazodone. He checked his pants, and he sighed gratefully. He hadn't soiled it nor wet it. Then he bit his lip, and grimaced as he realized something. The dream? The nightmare? He knew now what it was. But that comes later.
George approached Danny and touched his shoulder, "You still hearing the sound?"
"Yeah I could." Danny answered, his eyes only giving George flicking glances. "Damn thing seems to be inside my head. Covered my ears, didn't do a thing."
George nodded, then, "I'm sure there's a science behind the sound waves or some shit," he shrugged, pointed to the right east side of the store and said, "you go there and try to crane that neck of yours and see if the source somehow gives a hint or two. I'll be damned if something weird is going on with the pipes or wires or something behind the walls. Go that side and check every nook of the walls, see if you get a whiff of the source."609Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOpg9fpONiB
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He looked at Danny and saw him looking at him, with an expression of mock shock.
"Pipes? What kind of pipe makes that sound?"
"The hell would I know? Never even heard a sound like this. Except from the monks on tv. Go now, asswipe. Check there. I'll check here and the other areas."
Danny gave a quick laugh which made George feel a bit better. It was a real laugh, and he knew a real Danny laugh. This was it. Danny nodded and complied. George watched him walk to the east side of the store and continued watching him for five seconds or more, then proceeded to do his own task quietly.
He moved slowly with his ears near the wall. Once, he walked to the center of the store and knew that what they were doing was probably useless. The sound wasn't loud anymore, as it was when it started, but the volume of it was consistent wherever he went, near the wall or far from it. George went back to the wall to complete his task. He wasn't hopeful that he would find the source, but he still completed the task satisfactorily, but with unsatisfactory results. When they were finished, they found no source nor any trace regarding it. 609Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAJKakzopA2
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"What the fuck is this sound?" George asked no one in particular and Danny could hear the irritation in his voice, and he laughed. George looked at him, puzzled, then smacked his head from the side lightly. Well, not lightly, since Danny said "ow", but it wasn't something that gives one a concussion. They both laughed heartily and the somewhat dark atmosphere abated. When they were finished laughing Danny took a deep breath and said, "Well, old man, I really need to go. I need to be with Julia during these days. Can't stay out for too long. You know--"
George cut him off by saying, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yada, yada, yada, shut it. You go and be a wonderful husband to that dame," and gave Danny a warm smile.
"Yeah, I will." Then he before pushing the glass door open, "And please get to the bottom of this sound. This store's a mess with it." Danny opened the door and went outside.
George nodded to himself and turned around to return to the counter, the sound still humming in his ears. Despite the real laugh the two of them had earlier, George still felt a bit of fear in the depths of his heart, and he knew the sound was causing. Just why and how, he still didn't know. Just as he was about to circle around the counter, he heard a faint familiar male voice calling him from somewhere where the sound waves are a bit blocked. He turned his head, and saw Danny halted in front of his store, and he saw his mouth speak as the muffled voice called him again. "Georgie! Get the fuck out of there. You need to get out here." George grunted in annoyance and walked briskly to the door, opened it and went outside. He stood frozen beside his friend.
The store door was closed.
But the sound still had the same consistent hum and volume, and from his right, George heard someone asking.
"You hearing this shit?"
George turned and his head and saw 20 year old Max Wilson, his clerk trainee whose shift doesn't start till three (its just 12:26, George checked his watch), standing near the store in trainee uniform, his head moving, his eyes seemingly on the hunt for the source of the humming sound. George frowned and said, "Language, Maximalian."
Max grinned and replied, "Sorry Mr. G," to which George only nodded, "but I've been here for minutes, been walking back and forth, looking for whatever the fu---, whatever it is thats making this sound. It's irritating the hell out of me. But I can't find it, Mr. G. Can't find the fucker." Max suddenly realized what he had just said and followed it with,"Sorry."
George let that one pass. "Yeah Max. We heard it inside too, checked every corner and every nook of the store, but seems like wherever you go, the sound remains the same. It doesn't get louder or weaker."
"Except for the first boom it made." Max muttered weakly, but loud enough for George to hear. 609Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQGX8ydzeid
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"Except for that one, I agree." George was nodding his head, and noticed that his hands were twitching at his sides, one of his ticks whenever he's irritated or annoyed. He looked at Danny who seemed to be surveying the area. He did the same, and saw a few others walking slowly by, eyes looking for the source of the sound, and ears listening closely for traces of its location. George's mind was at work then, seems like everyone here's in on it. But it doesnt seem like they're getting anything more than we did when we tried looking for the source earlier. Well, well, well. That's a cool name for it. The Source. But what the fuck is it?
Then the sound faded to nothing. Everyone, who probably knew or was familiar with everybody else, looked at each other, as if to confirm if the sound really was gone, and it seemed as though their gazes answered it. The sound was gone, but it really did happen. George looked at Danny and Danny was already walking away. George just cocked his head, and decided to return inside. "Get in here, Max, its early, but you could benefit from practice."
"Yes sir! Mr. G. sir!" Max said, his right hand lifted to within his brow in a salute, and entered the shop after his senior. His senior stopped in his tracks, and he did the same. 609Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVecoYXLkn5
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Then a voice from the man in front of him spoke.
"You ever have nightmares, kid?"
"Uhh sometimes, sir. When I was a kid."
A laugh. Then George replied, "Yeah. Well how about these days, now that you're a bit older and wiser?"
"Naw, Mr. G. Never had another nightmare since I was 8. Ain't never much into fantasy or horror stories or some shi---, or such."
A pause, and Max called out weakly, "Mr G?"
Then George replied in a voice that somehow scared Max. It was partly because of what he said, but it was mostly because of the truth in his voice.
"You know, kid, some nightmares ain't fantasy. Some of 'em ain't even dreams. Some of them are memories."
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And George went behind the counter, where he never spoke an unnecessary word for the rest of the day, quietly working as usual as the customers started coming in around 2 that afternoon. And Max watched him warily. 609Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIfU2jidVaN
