She looked all around, the things appeared to be more stoic. Taking pride in their sedentary state, they enticed her more into the impending despair. The monotony led to the abjected state. She flinched as if bitten by the silence. It was not the ache or anticipation, but the emotion itself. She was not claustrophobic. The absence of activity, the sheer unavailability of anything remotely categorized as noise made her feel all the more numb.
Walking along the spiral, her silhouette gently brushing through the banister of the stairs, her feet feeling agonizing cold,it ached to find a trace of life. She missed the constant cries of the squalid kittens. The screeching sound of the ungreased swing where her kids took turns to fight for the seat was all but gone. The hubbub where one could not distinguish any particular voice was conspicuously absent. There was no hustling of the engine wheels on the nearest parched track. The windowsills lacking their verve to beat against the wall, added to her irritating calm. All the fallen leaves glued to the ground, not a single movement. Her bemoaning cries hitting a vacuum, she begged to hear.
Her quest bore no fruition. She walked silently. Was she the cherubic bubbly character who had created the life in this seemingly still house? Where has the uproar of laughter disappeared? The incessant and ebullient talks, the commotion and noise of life, the severity of activity- all vanished in the thin air. All she was left with now, was the gripping gloom, the shadow of gallows looming threateningly upon her. She wished she was alive. But she had only one place to return to. She grinned at the thought that the living souls think LIFE to be monotonous. And here she was, all alone having only one thing to do, sleep in her grave !
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