After dusk, we become paranoid. Our brains, primed for hyperactive pattern seeking by millennia of evolution, can't help but tell us that that noise downstairs was an intruder, or maybe even something worse...
Tell a story about paranoia against a dim and dusky setting.
Posted in response to the challenge Brainstorm Ideas for YWP's 2025-26 Weekly Challenges.
1)
I think that when he looks at pianos,
The keys are stained and worn in
With grooves and dents,
In the shapes of his fingerprints,
ghosts of peo / ple hiding in this house / they grew up in and left / hiding under tables in clo / sets long thin men pale pe / ople dark people all hidden / separately in the same room / waiting for the seeker to finis / h counting endlessly endl
He can see kids glowing in the kitchen,
Hands sticky with sweet gossip,
Bright, beautiful little selves smudged by the window that he,
A cracked old statue has broken his hands and fingers by banging on,
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