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The Drums

This is a true story…

Thursday morning I woke up at 5:10. I thought I heard drumming. I got up, I turned off my fan and I held my breath as I listened. I heard nothing. It was absolutely quiet. I laid back down and I heard the drumming again. I realized that it must be in my head and so I forced myself to lie there until I fell back asleep.

Friday morning I awoke at 5:10. Again I heard the drumming. This time I repeated the previous day’s performance with the same result. Am I going insane?

The weekend passed without incident. Monday and Tuesday I slept just fine. Last night I dreamed a series of bizarre nightmares – none of them so terrifying that I woke up in a cold sweat, but each one left a residue disturbing enough that when I awoke at 5:10 on the nose to the sound of drums that I closed my eyes and prayed that I wasn’t indeed losing my mind.

The sound that I hear is an incessant pounding. It is not music, but noise. And for some reason it reminds me of Poe’s poem, The Bells. I have written a similar piece, but my mental prose is titled The Drums.

By Evan Stark

Eddie Renz is an avid fan of Egyptology, Wilbur Smith and bacon. Not a fan of humility but often finds himself humbled when he is around people who understand numbers like the Fibonacci sequence and Pi.

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