From a Whisper to a Scream

This is not about vampires. But it is about darkness, anguish and pain and seems to fit well here. It’s a piece of my own writing I wrote on another site quite a while ago but took it down. I thought I’d share it here.

A cry for help is sometimes a silent scream. It bellows into the night only to dissipate into vapour, caught in an invisible mist of sadness that surrounds but never penetrates those who pass it by. A death shroud.

The deafening roar of the silence is louder than the human heart can bear. So you close your heart and mind to it and think, ‘it shall not touch me’ or worse, ‘I hear or see nothing at all’.

Would it make a difference if there were bruises? Tangible evidence of pain unspoken. If you cannot see the pain it must not be there. Does it make it easier for you not to notice? Does it make you feel better?You don’t really look at me, you look through me. You look but you do not see.

Do you know me? I’m sure you think you do.

If you catch my eye what do you see there; sadness, shame, emptiness, loneliness, hopelessness? And how do you see me; with pity, disgust or indifference? Or do you really see yourself mirrored back at you and not see me, really see me at all? It is far easier to turn away, throw it into the too hard basket to tackle another day when it won’t cause disruption or interruption.

Mine is the mind that takes the chrysalis of a whisper and when the metamorphosis is complete, I unleash a fully formed scream. But it still can’t be heard. Inside my head the noise is shattering but outside there is only silence because nobody wants to know it’s there. This scream that has been rent painfully from my body is now anchored, floating above the trees because no one is listening, no one is noticing. And there above me floats always an impenetrable fog of sorrow.

Will I still be here tomorrow?

Will you notice if I’m not?

See me. Hear me.

© Cheryl Jenkins 2007

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