No sound or anything to tell me if I did it right.“I don’t see anything.”“Shit, my mistake. Sorry to bother you.”Crap, I knew better than to...let my hormones get the best of me. I knew it was fake.“No problem. Say, are you busy right now?”“Huh?” I looked up at her. I don’t know why, but all of a sudden, I felt like prey.“It’s just that uhh, I’ve been so stressed out lately,” she said, brushing back a lock of hair. “Do you think you can help me out?”“S-sure.”She looked left and right. Then she. Everything that happens before Death is what counts.” -Ray Bradbury, ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’ *** It was late, and everyone else had gone home. There was no one to keep Sharon company. No one but the dead. Sometimes, when she was alone in the museum like this, she thought of the collection as something she could hear. Most of the artifacts were made to be vessels for some ancient god or spirit, after all, so the building should be crawling with the sounds of old ghosts and gods. If. More

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