Today, I encountered a sound that has always unnerved me: the laughter of children. Barry had left the windows open, inviting the fresh spr...
Today, I encountered a sound that has always unnerved me: the laughter of children.
Barry had left the windows open, inviting the fresh spring air into the house along with the cacophony of the outside world. From somewhere beyond the palm tree came the unmistakable peals of children's laughter. At first, it was distant, almost pleasant, like wind chimes caught in a gentle breeze. But as it grew louder, sharper, and more insistent, I found myself unable to ignore it.
It is a peculiar sound, children's laughter. So high-pitched, so shrill, that it seems to pierce the very fabric of the air. And yet, there is something else beneath it, something unsettling. It makes me wonder—are they truly laughing out of joy, or are they simply mimicking something far older and far less innocent?
I perched on the bookshelf, listening intently. The laughter ebbed and flowed, punctuated by shrieks and giggles that danced on the edge of coherence. In one moment, it was carefree and light; in the next, it seemed to transform into something darker, almost hollow. At times, it even sounded like whispers, barely audible but unmistakably there, as though the laughter held secrets meant only for them.
The shadows in the room seemed to shift as the laughter echoed through the open window. I couldn't help but feel as though the house itself was listening, holding its breath. Even Not My Cat, usually indifferent to the sounds of the outside world, paused her grooming to glance toward the window. Her ears twitched, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a flicker of unease in her green eyes.
What is it about this sound that unsettles me so? Perhaps it is because, in their laughter, I hear the echoes of something ancient, something unspoken. Or perhaps it is because, as a ventriloquist doll, I could not move my jaw to laugh until Barry fixed it. I can only listen, and wonder.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the children's voices grew fainter, I felt a strange sense of relief. The house exhaled, the shadows settled, and silence returned. But the memory of their laughter lingers, etched into the quiet corners of my mind.
Tell me, Diary, have you ever truly listened to the laughter of children?
Until next time, Dale T. Doll
Posts
COMMENTS