It was late, and the city streets were empty, save for the occasional flicker of a neon sign casting eerie shadows on the rain-slicked cobblestones. Daniel pulled his collar up against the cold, damp air as he wandered through the narrow alleyways.
The city’s usual bustle was replaced by an uncanny silence that seemed to swallow even the sound of his footsteps.
He had been drawn out of his apartment by a strange, recurring dream. Each night, a vision of an ancient, crumbling city would invade his sleep, its darkened streets teeming with faceless figures who moved without sound.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the dream was trying to tell him something, to guide him somewhere he needed to go.
As he turned a corner, the sudden flash of a neon light nearly blinded him. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the light illuminating an old, abandoned building.
Its windows were boarded up, and the sign above the door was barely legible, but something compelled him to enter.
Inside, the silence was even more oppressive. The air was thick with dust, and the only light came from the occasional flicker of the neon sign outside.
Daniel moved deeper into the building, feeling as if he were being watched by unseen eyes. He came to a large, open room and stopped dead in his tracks.
There, in the dim light, stood thousands of people. They were motionless, their eyes blank and unseeing. Yet Daniel could hear them. They were speaking without words, a murmur that seemed to rise from the very walls around him.
He strained to understand, but the meaning eluded him, slipping through his grasp like a wisp of smoke.
He walked among them, trying to catch a glimpse of their faces, but each was more featureless than the last. Panic began to set in. He shouted, but his voice was swallowed by the silence.
He reached out to touch one of the figures, but his hand passed through it as if it were made of mist.
Desperate, he ran to the far end of the room, where a single figure stood apart from the rest. This one seemed more solid, more real. As he approached, he saw that it was a man, his face hidden by the shadow of a hood.
The man raised his head, and Daniel gasped. The eyes that stared back at him were his own.
The figure spoke without moving its lips. The words echoed in Daniel’s mind, a silent whisper that chilled him to the bone. “You have come seeking answers, but you will find only silence. The vision you seek to understand has taken root in your mind, and now it will never leave.”
Daniel stumbled back, his mind reeling. The figures began to move, their heads turning to watch him with those blank, soulless eyes.
He fled the building, bursting out into the night air. The neon light flashed one last time, casting a warning that seared itself into his brain.
“The words of the prophets are written on the walls, in the halls where no one listens.”
He never spoke of that night again, but the vision never left him. Each night, the dream returned, and each night he found himself walking those same silent streets, haunted by the figures who spoke without words.
In the end, he realized the terrible truth: the silence had found him, and it would never let him go.
Gareth Ellis - Author 