Crimson's Musings
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  • Radio Static

    195263113
    The hair on the back of my neck rose as I left the parking lot. My work day had begun kissed by fog and was ending in much the same fashion, though the kiss seemed to have progressed to a something more. So thick was the fog that visibility was born from the breath that swallowed light - my pulse began to race.

    Imagination creates sleight of hand, I see movement and apparitions that aren’t there. Distraction, like a stiff drink, I crave. I find the radio, but only hear static.

    Pops. Sizzles. Faint voices.

    I shiver.

    My day started off like ‘The Mist’ but ended with ‘Silent Hill ll’. I have the radio…but my Goddess, where’s my stick with the nail? At least I’m in the van and not on foot, it’s something so Pyramid Head doesn’t get me.

    - Just Call Me James

    16 Comment commute fog humor photography Silent Hill The Mist work
    1. crimsonmuse posted this