The amanuensis came home from visiting a friend, saw off the Tiny humans sitter and went into her bedroom. The Even Tinier One was napping. The Tiny One came into her room and said, oh, I think there is crickets music on your tablet! The amanuensis followed the Tiny One into the living room to investigate. The room was vibrating with a quiet and supernaturally creepy sound that was like distant pipes, a low, sustained whistling sound that fluctuated slightly tone-wise but never seemed to let up. She turned off every speaker in the cozy tenement. The noise continued. She stalked around the space trying to see where it was coming from. It was loudest and strongest right under the shelf with pictures of all the dead ancestors, where a candle was burning and in fact had nearly burned out. The amanuensis had to conclude that either the heat of this candle is somehow causing the tall glass tube its burning in to whistle, or our dead relatives want me to dust them, The Tiny One immediately said, I think its both. Postmodern bunch these humans.
Posted on: Thu, 06 Mar 2014 00:52:29 +0000
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