{"Taste my disaster, it's heavy on my tongue."}
Silence. Silence is all I can hear as I walked down my house stairs. The are old, wooden, and impossibly creaky. In fact, even though it is completely silent, the creaks still continue. As if, almost, the creaks were on their own, and not connected to the steps themselves. Almost as if they didn't care about my poor ears, and the poor disturbance they make.
Silence was not something I was familiar with (the creaks were also not familiar). In fact, it worried me more that there was silence rather than loud noise. Loud noise meant I was not alone, silence meant anything could happen. It was difficult for me to assume nothing was to happen, as surprises come in the worst ways. So, normally, I would be annoyed to be walking down these stairs, and hearing these creaks in the night's silence, but today was different. It comforted me, the creaks. It was day, and it was not supposed to be this quiet in my little home.
I lived with my two little brothers, my mother, and my father. All of whom are currently gone. Why? I do not know. The windows are open, and the blinds are not shut as they normally are. I could feel London's thick breath fanning my face, but I could no longer hear it's incessant clamor.
London where have you gone, and why can't I be with you?