The door is locked, bolted, boarded up. They won’t think of looking for me here if I keep to myself. In this dark room, I sit alone in the corner, quiet, silent as possible. I barely want to breathe.
I hear them out there, beyond the door. Moving, always moving. Sometimes with purpose, but sometimes they just can’t stop. If not physically, then verbally. Always the unbearable noise. They can’t shut up or stay still, unlike me.
I can stay perfectly still, as far away from the door as I can get. As far away from them. They taught me to be afraid of them. In little ways at first, but then I learned how truly damaging they can be. This is why I must lock myself away from the pain and agony that is…
…other people.
2026, John L. Harmon
Freak Out,
JLH
P.S. click a pic for another short story…
