Haunting Silence...

 

Dear Readers,

The night was thick with an unsettling stillness when I arrived at my friend’s house. He had called me over for a casual drink, something normal but the moment I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong.

The house was suffocatingly dark as if light itself had abandoned the place. No television murmured in the background; no fan or air conditioner hum cut through the silence. It was the kind of silence that felt like a living thing, pressing against my skin, making it crawl. The air was heavy, thick with something unspeakable.

And there he was.

He sat in the living room on a rocking chair, unmoving. The slight creak of the chair’s slow, rhythmic sway was the only sound in the room, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Normally, I wouldn’t be startled so easily. I had seen enough darkness in my own life and sat in enough silence to know what it meant. But seeing him like that seeing the reflection of my own isolation staring back at me made me feel as if I had walked into something I wasn’t meant to witness.

A soft sound brushed against the floor. My breath hitched as a shadow moved near my feet. Then I saw her his black cat, sleek and silent like the night itself. She rubbed against my leg, her body tensed, as if warning me. Her eyes, wide and gleaming, flicked toward the hallway.

Then the door slammed.

Hard.

The sudden noise shattered the quiet, making my pulse thunder in my ears. My friend didn’t even flinch. He just sat there, staring into nothingness, the chair continuing its slow, ghostly creak. My eyes darted toward the hallway, toward the door that had slammed shut on its own.

That was the room.

I knew it before I even saw it inside.

I took a hesitant step forward, my heartbeat thudding. The cat followed, her body stiff, her tail puffed, her silent warning growing louder in my mind. When I reached the doorway, I saw the chair, sitting in the middle of the room, directly beneath the ceiling fan.

A simple wooden chair. Nothing inherently terrifying about it. And yet, something about its placement, its presence, sent a chill through me. It was too perfectly positioned, right under the fan, as if waiting. As if it had already been used.

A sick realization crawled into my gut.

Had he tried? Had he thought about it, just as I had countless nights before? Sitting alone in the dark, no lights, no sounds, no one but loneliness to keep him company?

No one listens. No one cares. Money talks, money walks, and the truth die in silence.

I turned back to him, but his vacant expression hadn’t changed. “Hey,” I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. “You good?”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Just a shallow breath, as if he had nothing left to say. As if he had said everything before and no one had ever listened.

I knew that feeling. I knew it too damn well. I was there…

I walked over and sat beside him. No words, no forced comfort. Just sat there in the dark, listening to the rocking chair creak and feeling the weight of two souls trapped in the same endless night.

The black cat jumped into my lap, pressing against me as if she, too, understood. As if she refused to let either of us disappear into the silence.

And in that moment, I realized if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be here today. If I hadn’t answered that call, if I hadn’t stepped into that suffocating darkness, the chair in that room might have held more than just an eerie presence.

Reflection

There are moments when we give all we have, hoping for something in return validation, a sign, a simple recognition. But often, it feels as if everything we do is unnoticed as if the effort fades into the void. The world can be cruelly indifferent, and sometimes, it feels as though the kindness we offer is met with silence, swallowed by the dark. We may wonder if the universe will ever give us back what we've given and if we’ll ever receive the warmth we've extended to others. But in the quiet, the stillness, there's a strange kind of power. Perhaps the real lesson is learning to keep moving, even when no one notices. To stand strong in the face of oblivion, knowing that what we do matters even if it’s never acknowledged. Sometimes, the strength lies not in the recognition we crave, but in the quiet courage to keep moving forward despite it all.

Jacob M