by Madeline Mora-Summonte

The music, always so loud.

Edna asks, begs, demands.

The neighbours next door stare blankly, deny, close the door in her face.

Fury scorches her. Then, the icy focus finds her. Happens every time.

That night, Edna pads across the back lawn, hatchet in hand.

She slashes, silences the stereo, radio, phone. From her feet, a wet shuddery breath rises, falls, stills.

She waits for peace, quiet.

But something is wrong.

She still hears the music.

She cocks her head. She has the wrong house. Again.

Sanity scraped raw, hatchet bloodied, Edna crosses the street.

The music, always so loud.

Madeline Mora-Summonte

Madeline Mora-Summonte is a writer, a reader, a beachcomber and a tortoise owner. Many of her creepy little tales are out prowling in print and lurking online. Visit her website for a taste of her work. Just be careful something doesn’t taste you back.

Website: MadelineMora-Summonte.com