Shred of Evidence

I never slept much as a little girl. To this day, I’m not sure why, but I think it had to do with the silence. It had its own peculiar sound, something I was first aware of around the age of four. A soft humming that I could ignore all day when I was playing outside with my little brother Johnny or visiting with the horses and cows and dogs that lived on the farm with us. But at night, after my mother tucked me in and sang lullabies to me by my bed, the sound would take over. I tried to make it go away, tried to make myself sleep.

I never could.

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Sarah Weinman is a writer and editor whose short fiction has appeared in Plots With Guns, Pindeldyboz, Crime Spree, and Hardluck Stories, and is forthcoming in the Dublin Noir and Baltimore Noir anthologies. She may be reached at her weblog, Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind, at http://www.sarahweinman.com.