CHILDREN OF THE CONSTANT HUM by William Pauley III
"I didn’t realize it at the time, but that moment was the beginning of my story—my personal contribution to the ever-expanding Bedlam Bible. Once that steel door opened, I was never the same again..."
CHILDREN OF THE CONSTANT HUM
by William Pauley III
The elevator came to a screeching halt the moment I pushed the call button, then it just sat there for a full ten seconds, humming.
Yes, the elevator was humming, and I just stood there, letting my imagination run wild. I envisioned that steel box wired with bundles of stringy veins, pumping hot blood through its fleshy walls, complete with hissing lungs and a vibrating throat. It hummed some short verse, of which it repeated ad nauseam. Its song carried a rhythm, one without lyrics, just a series of vibrations of varied intensities. Knowing nothing about these kinds of things, I took several steps back, for all I knew the thing was getting ready to blow. The vibrations felt nuclear to me—atomic.
Ten seconds was not enough time to form a rational thought, apparently, as I just stood there, staring at that steel door, waiting for it to explode, the way one might stare at a ghost instead of run away from it.
Thankfully, my instincts were shit, because the thing didn’t end up exploding, not even close. The hum wasn’t even coming from the elevator at all, but instead from something standing inside it.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but that moment was the beginning of my story—my personal contribution to the ever-expanding Bedlam Bible. Once that steel door finally opened, I was never the same again…
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