Random Works

Earache

 Diary,

People can read minds but they don't tell anyone. If they tell you then you'll think differently and they won't learn your secrets. So they make you write down your thoughts in diaries- easy access.

Earache thinks he can hear things that others can't. Right now the colour violet is screaming at him, begging for attention.

Well who cares? Nobody cares.

Earache isn't his real name. They call him that because he bit Leon's ear off. He only did it because otherwise the green and crimson sky would fall down. Nobody else was going to save the world. He was only trying to help. Honest.

Anyway, how would anyone be able to tell if they were hearing someone else's thoughts? Surely there's no way of distinguishing between hearing a thought and thinking one... No-one's logical enough to think these things through nowadays. Idiots.

All Earache knows is that one day the world will end and no-one will notice. Basically everything will crumble into dust or be incinerated by a pitchfork red sun that spews out violent and searing hot gas vomit in shades of holy gold and majestic orange. Copious amounts of precious life that has been unappreciated for millions of years will be lost forever, leaving behind nothing but a white dust smudge on an otherwise pristine black chalkboard- but the screams will go on forever. If there's one thing Earache believes in it's that the screams will go on forever.

Can anyone hear us now?

Either the sound of Jerome's wailing coming from his room means he can hear thoughts or he's just lost another game of noughts and crosses.

The plastic band with Earache's real name and patient number on it sometimes burns white hot into my flesh. It's a handcuff that locks him to his mental state, and while he knows the doctors are trying to help he wants it to be known that he's not as weak as everyone else.

He's in control.

Wait!

If I'm writing this, and you're reading it... then where's Earache?