I wrote this in response to Little McFerrin’s five sentence fiction prompt for this week: ringing.
By Laura McHale Holland
He wants quiet to wash over his head like cool river water on a blistering day. When the day settles down and the moon waxes or wanes, he remembers when the only sounds he heard were the wind in the maple outside his window, a coyote howling in the hills or car wheels pulling into his drive. He once had long hours of peace, but he can no longer feel them in his bones. The damage is permanent. He puts on his headphones, turns up the volume and finds a pulsing counterpoint to the endless ringing in his ears.
Photo by jbelluch
Want to read other writers’ takes on “ringing”? http://www.inlinkz.com/wpview.php?id=234250