Silence is a cage. These words are my keys.
It's not the dead even. They're gone. Nothing you can do about that. It's what's left behind - the echo. These woods you're walking through. There are some old timers who think a sound echoes here forever. Makes sense when you think about it. That Billingham kid. I'm sure he screamed. He screams, it echoes, just bounces back and forth, the sound getting smaller and smaller, but never entirely disappearing. Like a part of his is still calling out, even now.
Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream.
The monster inside him was finally silent. The sword in his hand spoke a thousand stories, while hundreds of voices screamed feebly through the blood dripping from it. The blade of the sword shined like an evening sky and sang a tale of the darkest revenge.
Anytime that the Arizona Cardinals play football, I scream at the top of my lungs at the television. And I have certain dances that I do.
When in doubt or danger, run in circles, scream and shout.
Luckily for me, people don't scream at me that much in my everyday life.
The haters always scream the loudest.
A 'scream' is always just that - a noise and not music.
