The sound of the sirens woke him.
It was getting closer.
It was growing further away.
Paralysed, he laid in his bed with eyes pinched shut.
His brain swelled with pressure as the siren echoed in between his ears, reverberating between a soft hum and a shrilling ping.
There had been no weather warnings that day.
The weatherman had forecasted nothing but blue skies for the week.
But he always forecasted blue skies in Drake.
Another picture perfect blue sky day was all he heard from the weatherman.
The weather was always perfect, and it seemed to only rain when it was needed.
But Drake never seemed to need it.
Opening his eyes, he moved to the window as the sirens kept bashing on.
No streetlights pierced his eyes.
No moon shined in the sky.
If there were stars, he couldn’t see them either.
All he could hear were the damn sirens.
They were crying to him.
He placed both hands on the windowpane, hoping there would be a vibration that could tell him how close the sirens were but there was nothing. It was if Drake had fallen into a vacuum of stillness.
Pressing his forehead against the glass, the sirens still hummed and shrilled.
They weren’t crying anymore.
They were screaming.
Louder and louder.
The glass grew warm against his skin.
Something was terribly wrong.
With a deep breath he closed his eyes.
He needed to see.
To truly see.
There was a tear in the darkness.
Blackness slipped out of dark.
Black against black.
No one would be able to see it but him.
The sirens weren’t crying or screaming.
They were a warning.
A warning of terrible things coming to Drake.
The sirens were the warning shot and no one but the blind man could hear it.
No one would believe the blind man could see the blackness of the dark edging towards Drake.
He knew what he had to do.
He didn’t want to do it.
She was such a nice girl.
But if he wanted to save Drake, he would have to do what he dreaded the most.
He had to summon her to Drake.
Photo by Heorhii Heorhiichuk from Pexels
Categories: Flash Fiction