Read The Silent Sounds of Chaos Online
Authors: Kristina Circelli
The Silent Sounds of Chaos
* * * *
The Silent Sounds of Chaos
© 2015 by Kristina Circelli
Editing by Juli’s Elite Editing
Cover by Najla Qamber Designs
Formatting by JT Formatting
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For Kristi
To meeting in weird ways and having it just make sense.
“
Dark, twisty, and mysterious, The Silent Sounds of Chaos kept me teetering on the edge of my seat while frantically tearing through the pages for answers, I was so ensnared within its web
.”
– Heather Lyons, Author of The Collectors’ Society Series
“Wow. Twists, turns, raw emotion, this book literally has it all. I could not put it down
.”
– Emily Cyr, Author of the Vampire Favors Series
“I was a prisoner from the first word. Watching the story. Living the story. Holding my breath until the very last word, when everything fell into place.”
– Kristi Strong, Author of the Kaldalangra Series
THE BOY HUDDLED in the farthest corner of his tiny closet, bony shoulders pressed up against the cheap, paneled walls of an already falling-apart trailer. In his hands he twisted the thin metal of a paper clip, creating loops and shapes until they formed a stick man, just one of many he’d created to distract himself from the sounds filling his run-down home.
Through the thin walls of his bedroom he could hear the source of his fear—two voices engaged in a verbal sparring match in the next room. One of them he knew, a shockingly thin woman with unwashed blonde hair and sunken blue eyes that, in the past, may have matched his own. The other he knew from many nights such as these, a tall and wide man with frightening pictures on his arms. Their shouts filled him with fear, the woman accusing the man of doing terrible things, the man ordering her to pay or else he’d do those terrible things again.
Their hate, their anger, sent him into the closet, where he often hid when his mother’s visitors gave him those strange and calculating looks. His arms wrapped around a soft, yellow blanket almost as big as he was, one he’d kept at his side for as long as his young mind could remember. Face buried in the yellow comfort, he tried hard not to be afraid.
Tonight his fear felt different.
He
felt different, so tired and scared and hurting from a night he’d lived too many times in his young life. But, more than tired—he felt a part of himself fade away into nothingness, only to be replaced by the same hate filling the voices outside his room.
One tiny hand pressed over an ear, the other holding the blanket to his chest, as his body began to rock ever so slightly. He concentrated on the roaring in his ears rather than the thud of a body hitting the hollow floor, or the whimpers from a broken woman who’d given up long ago.
Make it stop
.
In his head he whispered the silent plea to anyone who could help him, anyone who could hear the unspoken words of a little boy trapped in his bedroom closet. No one had ever heard him before, but maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different.
Please make it stop.
And then, by magic or miracle, his plea was answered.
I will protect you
.
The voice whispered inside his mind, fluttering through his senses in a way that almost tickled. The boy stilled, listening carefully for the voice again, a quiet, high-pitched tone he felt like he should know, but couldn’t quite place.
When he heard only the rushing in his ears, he reached out.
Hello?
I will protect you
, the voice said again, a girl’s voice.
He knew he should probably be afraid of a stranger magically talking to him, but he liked the sound of this particular stranger. It sounded like music when she spoke, and distracted him from the screeching and thudding going on outside the safety of his mind.
Who are you?
he asked, and could almost feel the hesitation on the other end.
I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name … Are you real?
He huffed.
Of course I’m real.
How can I hear you?
He thought about it, not coming up with an answer. Nor did he want to admit to silently praying for help, help that came in the form of her innocent proclamation.
Dunno.
I heard you
, she insisted.
I heard you crying in my head.
I wasn’t crying.
Well, if you say so … Are you sure you’re real?
Are you?
he countered, trying to comprehend the fluttering in his mind amidst the shouting through the walls.
I think so.
How old are you?
Seven.
Me too
. He felt a strange twinge of satisfaction that she wasn’t older, and that they had something in common.
Who are you?
Again, he sensed hesitation.
I’m not a stranger.
Are too.
Fine
. He huffed again and squeezed his eyes shut. It was almost fun, blocking out the entire world and focusing only on the person living in his brain.
Then let’s pretend to be other people. I wanna be … an explorer, and have lots of adventures and cause lots of trouble, and run away whenever I feel like it.
He heard her giggle in his mind, and instantly loved the sound.
Who are you?
I wanna be … a princess! The prettiest princess in the world who makes friends with everyone and talks to all the animals.
What a girl.
Hey!
He grimaced at himself, forgetting that this strange new girl could hear all his thoughts.
Sorry … I don’t know what to call you. You need a name.
You think of one,
she giggled at him.
He thought, long and hard.
Okay. How about … I know! Can I call you Snow? Like the princess all the girls at school talk about?
Can I call you Finn? Like the little boy I saw in a movie at school who ran away to live on the river?
They agreed upon their new names, and, with their introductions, the two children were no longer strangers.
He talked to her through the night, the menacing sounds around him disappearing as he listened to her talk in her youthful, high-pitched voice. She told him about her life living by the beach, with a mother and father who were very nice to her. She liked to read, and watch movies with princesses, and wanted to learn how to swim. It was a happy life, he could tell, and yet, he sensed loneliness in her tone, though he couldn’t identify its source.
She listened to him until morning, wondering why he sounded so scared when his words first filtered through her mind, enjoying the way his tone relaxed as the night wore on. He told her about his life in a run-down trailer park, with a mother who paid more attention to strange men and things with weird smells. He liked to skateboard, and hang out with his friends, and hoped to be on a football team someday. It was a hard life, she imagined sadly, and yet, she knew he faced each day with the kind of mischievousness only boys could cause.
When she grew quiet, no longer responding, he worried she had grown tired of his stories.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered out loud, not wanting her to hear his childish plea. Deep down he hoped she was only tired, that he’d kept her up too late. Her, the voice in his head, a stranger who probably didn’t really exist. But he didn’t want to give her up, because giving her up would mean accepting the reality around him. And so, instead of saying good-bye or goodnight, the boy now named Finn decided to make her his.
