Literature
The Scream
The wind, which turned into a breath of melancholy, turns me around to face the asylum and the slaughterhouse opposite it.
A sound which had never bothered me before pierced through me - the bleating of the demented, intermingled with the tortured and fearful cries of the animals being slaughtered at the abattoir nearby. The screams build up to an overwhelming crescendo, they force me to lean against the railing. They resonate into the atmosphere, to a far away destination, to Mother Nature. I realise that I'm the only one left, my friends have walked further up the path, and I am left, caught up in another's fear, agony and madness.
A thou