🏳️ 👥 The Country Without A People ❌ ⚰️
⏳ No Clocks or Crowds; Only Rituals Rehearsed for Ghosts that never Return. 🕯️
1. 🚉 Timetables of Nothing 🕰️
The station’s dead quiet...
A big glass case of timetables hangs over the platform…
Spotless & glowing like it still matters.
Two Clerks stand underneath it in their grey coats,
Everything on them neat & pressed,
Like they’re still expecting someone to notice.
The benches are empty, & the floor’s clean. It looks ready for a rush of people...
Who’ll never show up.
…
A: “These timetables are spotless… Like someone keeps polishing them just to prove they exist.”
B: “Better spotless than dusty. Dust would make this place look abandoned.”
A: “Isn’t it?”
B: “Not officially. There’s still rules. As long as the case is clean, we’re open.”
A: “Open to who?”
B: “Doesn’t matter. Being open’s the rule.”
…
The platform stretches out into Silence.
…
A: “Tram seven’s late.”
B: “Nothing runs anymore. Can’t really be late if it never moves.”
A: “Should I mark it down anyway?”
B: “Why not? We’ve got ink.”
A: “Ink we’ll never run out of.”
B: “That’s the only thing that keeps arriving on Time... ink & dust.”
A: “Not exactly a timetable worth keeping.”
B: “Doesn’t matter. We keep it anyway.”
…
A leaf drifts along the tracks.
…
A: “You think passengers are ever coming back?”
B: “No. Not a chance.”
A: “I keep listening, though. For footsteps. For anything.”
B: “All you’ll get is echoes. & echoes don’t buy tickets.”
A: “I’d settle for a cough. Even someone cursing at me.”
B: “Be careful. If they did come back, they’d expect change.”
A: “Maybe that’s why they stay away.”
…
The light buzzes above them.
…
A: “The rulebook says despair’s not allowed on shift.”
B: “Then smile.”
A: “I smiled yesterday.”
B: “&?”
A: “Nothing happened.”
B: “Figures.”
A: “Do you ever smile?”
B: “Only when I want to make Silence nervous.”
A: “Nervous Silence… I’d almost welcome that.”
…
Pens are lined up, brass corners polished.
…
A: “Who are we even serving?”
B: “The station, I guess. The rules. Habit.”
A: “That sounds pointless.”
B: “Everything’s pointless. We might as well be polite about it.”
A: “If I quit, would anyone notice?”
B: “No One’s left to notice.”
A: “So why don’t you quit?”
B: “Because someone has to keep the lights on. Even emptiness deserves company.”
A: “You really believe that?”
B: “Belief’s got nothing to do with it. It’s just easier than leaving.”
…
The ticket rolls sit untouched, like bread no One’s hungry for.
…
A: “Imagine the whistle blew. You think anyone would show up?”
B: “Maybe a stray dog. Or nothing at all.”
A: “The law used to ride these tracks. Judges, soldiers, all of them.”
B: “Now, even the rain doesn’t bother to show up.”
A: “At least the rain was reliable.”
B: “Yeah. More than us.”
A: “Do you miss it? The noise?”
B: “Sometimes. Then I remember how people were always in a hurry. Always late.”
A: “Late to what?”
B: “To The End, I guess. We just got here sooner.”
A: “Maybe that makes us lucky.”
B: “Or unlucky. Hard to tell anymore.”
…
The glass case glows faintly.
…
A: “Departure, seventeen past. Witnesses: none.”
B: “Write it down. Nothing deserves a record.”
A: “Should I close the book?”
B: “Not yet. Darkness can do that.”
A: “& us?”
B: “We’ll stay. Someone has to.”
A: “Even if no One comes?”
B: “Especially then. If someone came, it would ruin the Silence.”
…
Evening settles in. The rails hold their breath.
2. 📚 The Classroom of Silence 🔔
Three kids sit on the bench across from the old monument.
Their uniform shirts are wrinkled, & their ties are loose.
Notebooks rest on their laps, but nobody opens them.
The Bell clangs from the schoolhouse, too sharp, like it still thinks the place is alive.
…
A: “Bro, you can’t even read the names. Just smooth stone.”
B: “Good. Saves us from memorizing that founder crap.”
C: “Like you ever memorized anything.”
B: “Shut up, you copied me.”
A: “Doesn’t matter. It’s just a rock now.”
…
They kick at leaves, the scrape too loud for how empty it is.
…
A: “Swear my notebook had writing in it this morning. Whole page.”
B: “Bullshit.”
C: “Ghost notes, bro. You’re dumb.”
B: “Ghost teacher grading you. ‘Nice try, F minus.’”
A: “At least my ghost shows up.”
C: “Better than you ever did.”
B: “Yeah, well, ghosts don’t ditch class to vape behind the gym.”
A: “That was One Time.”
C: “It was, like, every day.”
…
They laugh, quick & mean, then quiet down.
…
C: “Bell’s still on Time. Who’s it for?”
A: “Nobody. Just doesn’t know how to quit.”
B: “Wish I was like that. No thinking, just clang clang forever.”
C: “That’s literally you.”
B: “Eat shit.”
A: “God, you two sound married.”
C: “Better than sounding like his grandpa.”
A: “Okay, whatever.”
…
A pigeon drops down, pecks at nothing, & flaps off again.
…
A: “You think we’ll ever have exams again? Desks, panic attacks, all that.”
B: “Nah. Teachers are gone. Parents too. Whole thing’s dead.”
C: “Good. Exams sucked.”
A: “Everything sucks.”
B: “Especially your handwriting.”
C: “Yeah, looks like worms.”
A: “Whatever. At least I write. You just draw dicks.”
B: “Art is culture, man.”
C: “Yeah, museum of dicks.”
…
They laugh louder, then let it die.
…
A: “So what’s History now? Just stuff we’ll forget?”
B: “History’s nothing. No One left to fight about it.”
C: “Still feels like that rock’s staring at us. Like it wants a salute.”
A: “Yeah? Then it can salute my ass.”
B: “Bet it’d still get better grades than you.”
…
The wind flips their notebooks, & they grab them before they close.
…
C: “So what do we do now?”
B: “This. Pretend class is still happening.”
A: “Bell rings, we walk home like idiots.”
C: “Except home’s gone.”
B: “Exactly. Perfect attendance.”
A: “Honour roll in nothing.”
…
They slump back, shoulders touching, pencils tapping just to make noise.
…
A: “Sometimes I just wanna scribble. Doesn’t matter what. Just to hear it.”
C: “Draw another dick.”
B: “He already does.”
A: “Better than blank.”
C: “Blank’s honest. Who’s gonna read it?”
A: “Doesn’t matter. At least it feels like doing something.”
B: “Bro’s romantic about homework. Kill me.”
C: “He’s just bored.”
A: “We all are.”
B: “Yeah, no shit.”
C: “Whole world’s detention, man.”
…
The Bell rings again, too loud for the emptiness.
They stand automatically, then sit right back down.
…
A: “Guess not yet.”
B: “Nope.”
C: “Still early.”
A: “Feels late.”
B: “Everything feels late when nothing’s happening.”
C: “Shut up, philosopher.”
A: “Yeah, bro, save that for ghost class.”
…
The Silence after feels heavier than before.
3. 🍽️ The Banquet of Dust 🥖
The three of them sit at the table like it’s still dinner.
Plates are out, forks lined up straight, glasses empty.
The loaf in the middle looks older than all of them, hard enough to knock a tooth out.
The light buzzes overhead, too bright for how dim the room feels…
Like it doesn’t realize nobody’s eating.
…
Grandma: “Alright, dinner’s ready.”
Kid: “It’s just bread.”
Grandpa: “Bread’s still food. Be grateful.”
Kid: “For what? Rocks with crusts?”
Grandma: “For sitting down. That’s the point.”
Grandpa: “Yeah, better than chewing alone.”
Kid: “Or better than not chewing at all?”
Grandma: “Don’t start.”
…
The kid pokes the loaf with a fork. It barely makes a dent.
…
Kid: “This thing’s, like, a brick.”
Grandpa: “Brick’ll still fill your stomach if you fight it long enough.”
Grandma: “Dip it in water. Softens it up.”
Kid: “That’s nasty.”
Grandma: “So’s starving.”
Grandpa: “Listen to her. She’s seen worse.”
Kid: “Worse than eating drywall?”
Grandma: “Worse than no bread at all.”
…
For a while, nobody talks. The buzz of the light is louder than the sound of chewing.
…
Kid: “Why do we even bother setting the table? Nobody’s coming.”
Grandpa: “Because if we don’t, the house feels dead.”
Kid: “The house is dead.”
Grandma: “Not while we’re sitting here.”
Kid: “We’re barely sitting here.”
Grandpa: “We’re here. That’s enough.”
…
The kid rips off a chunk, chews, & winces.
…
Kid: “Tastes like dust.”
Grandma: “Then say thank you to dust. Dust kept you alive today.”
Grandpa: “Could be worse. Could be dirt.”
Kid: “Not much worse.”
…
The old man leans back, staring at the ceiling like it might answer.
…
Grandpa: “You know, we used to eat like kings…
Whole chickens, roasts, pies, everything you could dream of.”
Kid: “Cool story. Doesn’t help.”
Grandma: “Don’t be rude.”
Grandpa: “Nah, let him talk. He’s right. Stories don’t fill a belly.”
Kid: “Then why keep telling them?”
Grandpa: “Because it’s all that’s left to tell.”
…
The old woman straightens the tablecloth even though it doesn’t need straightening.
…
Grandma: “I remember singing before meals. Grace. Do you remember that?”
Grandpa: “Yeah. I remember.”
Kid: “What’s grace?”
Grandpa: “It’s a prayer. You thank God for the food.”
Kid: “But there’s no food.”
Grandma: “There’s bread.”
Kid: “Barely.”
Grandpa: “God takes what he can get.”
…
The loaf sits between them like a challenge nobody wants to win.
…
Kid: “What if tomorrow there’s nothing at all?”
Grandma: “Then tomorrow we’ll still set the table.”
Grandpa: “Plates, forks, napkins. Habit’s stronger than hunger.”
Kid: “That’s stupid.”
Grandma: “Stupid’s better than empty.”
Grandpa: “She’s right. Empty swallows you whole…
Stupid at least gives you something to do with your hands.”
…
The kid tears off another bite, chews, & swallows hard.
…
Kid: “Feels like I’m eating drywall.”
Grandpa: “Walls keep the house standing. Maybe that’s the point.”
Kid: “So we’re eating the house now?”
Grandma: “Better us eat it than the house eat us.”
…
The light buzzes again, flickering like it wants out.
The bread flakes crumble across the cloth.
The three of them sit there, chewing dust, pretending it’s a meal…
Pretending that the ritual itself will hold the house together a little longer.
4. 🎖️ The Armistice Without Parties 🥁
The parade ground’s cracked all over, grass poking through like it owns the place.
The flagpole clanks every Time the wind hits it, an empty hook smacking metal.
The benches are warped from rain, the paint long gone.
Two old guys sit on One, uniforms half-faded, not even matching…
Boots kicked out in front of them.
…
A: “Look at this shit. Grass is marching straighter than we ever did.”
B: “Yeah. Doesn’t even need boots. Or pay.”
A: “Or orders.”
B: “Hell, doesn’t even need water. Just keeps coming.”
A: “Winning the war.”
B: “Cheapest damn army there is.”
…
They chuckle, then cough it out.
…
A: “Remember inspection days? Standing there till your legs locked, sweating like pigs?”
B: “All for some shiny bastard who never saw mud.
Bet his medals are still polished somewhere.”
A: “Bet he’s not.”
B: “Fair trade.”
…
‘A’ pulls a weed out of the crack between his boots, tosses it.
…
A: “We used to drill here. Left face, right face, all that bullshit.”
B: “Yeah. Now it’s just face forward & wait.”
A: “Wait for what?”
B: “Fuck if I know. Silence to give orders, maybe.”
A: “Wouldn’t be worse than the captains we had.”
B: “Remember Sergeant Miller? Guy yelled so hard he’d go purple in the face.”
A: “Yeah, & then pass out. Best part of training.”
B: “Whole platoon trying not to laugh while he wheezed.”
A: “Now I’d kill for someone yelling again.”
B: “Not me. I like it quiet. Easier on the ears.”
…
They pass the canteen back & forth, One sip each.
…
A: “Manual said battles end in victory or surrender.”
B: “Manual never covered this.”
A: “What’s this then?”
B: “Just… quitting, I guess.”
A: “Cleaner than victory. No One cheering, no One crying. Just nothing.”
B: “Nothing’s good at keeping score.”
…
The flagpole clanks again.
They watch it like it might drop a flag just to mess with them.
…
A: “We should hang something up. Bedsheet, maybe.”
B: “For who?”
A: “Us.”
B: “Two-man army saluting a sheet? You’ve lost it.”
A: “Better than saluting nothing.”
B: “Nothing doesn’t need salutes.”
…
They laugh a little longer this Time.
…
B: “You remember the drums? Boom boom boom, echoing all across the yard.”
A: “Yeah. Hear it sometimes still. Only in my chest, though... Heartbeat.”
B: “That’s the last drummer left.”
A: “Shitty tempo.”
B: “Always was.”
…
A stray dog wanders across the ground, stops to sniff…
Then trots off like it’s got better things to do.
…
A: “You ever miss it? The yelling, the noise?”
B: “Sometimes. But most of it was waiting anyway. Hurry up & wait. That’s the army.”
A: “That’s all this is now. Just waiting with no whistle.”
B: “You’d blow it if you had One.”
A: “Probably. Out of habit.”
B: “Habit’s all we’ve got left.”
A: “Yeah. Habit & weeds.”
…
They lean back, stretching out their legs, boots knocking the grass.
…
A: “So what’s left then?”
B: “This.”
A: “Us?”
B: “Yeah. Us. We’re what’s left of nothing.”
A: “Hell of a promotion.”
B: “General of grass.”
A: “Better than corporal of Silence.”
B: “Not by much.”
…
The flagpole rattles again. The grass keeps marching.
5. 🏛️ The Embassy of Air 🪪
From the street, it almost looks normal.
Doors clean, brass plate polished, lobby inside all neat...
Chairs lined up, desk at the end,
Papers stacked like somebody actually meant to come back after lunch.
But the booth by the gate’s empty, the flag’s gone,
& the lock’s got a rim of dust around it thick enough to write your name in.
Three people stand in line anyway, folders tucked under their arms,
Plastic sleeves creased from being held too tight.
The ticket machine next to the steps keeps coughing up numbers every few minutes,
Little slips that curl in the breeze like they’re waiting to be picked up.
...
A: “Machine gave me eighty-four. Guess I’m next.”
B: “Next for what? Nothing?”
C: “Yeah, congratulations. You beat the wind.”
A: “Better than standing here with empty hands.”
B: “You think a paper slip’s proof of life?”
C: “Man, he’s right, though. Feels less dumb holding it.”
B: “Nah. Dumb’s dumb. Number doesn’t make it holy.”
...
They glance through the glass doors:
Everything’s spotless, like the lobby’s staged for a tour. Too clean.
...
B: “Bet someone’s in there, watching us. Laughing their ass off.”
A: “Nah, place is dead.”
C: “I used to work in a place like this…
We’d watch people sweat over forms, not help ’em, just… watch. Passed the Time.”
B: “That’s evil.”
C: “That’s office work.”
...
Wind rattles the empty flag bracket against the pole.
The clang echoes down the street.
...
A: “Still brought my passport. Expired ten years, but feels naked without it.”
B: “Passport to where? You gonna flash it to pigeons?”
C: “I brought mine too. Figured maybe it’d matter if they ever opened up.”
B: “You two are hopeless.”
A: “Hopeless is better than nothing.”
...
They shuffle a step forward like the line just moved, even though it didn’t.
...
C: “Look at that crest up there. Double-headed eagle, still glaring.”
A: “Looks like it wants off the wall.”
B: “Looks like it wants to eat us.”
C: “Eagle’s probably starving too.”
A: “Better start printing its numbers then.”
...
The ticket machine spits out eighty-five. Nobody bends to pick it up.
...
A: “You know what I actually want? Just somebody in there to say my name.
Doesn’t even matter what happens next.”
C: “Yeah. They could butcher the pronunciation, I’d still sit down like it was real.”
B: “That’s sad as hell.”
A: “So? Sad still beats being invisible.”
...
The brass plate flashes in the sun like it’s mocking them.
...
C: “So what if they never open it? Like, never again?”
A: “Then we wait till dark.”
B: “& tomorrow?”
A: “Same line. Same numbers.”
C: “That’s insane.”
B: “Yeah, but that’s exactly how offices always worked.”
...
A pigeon lands on the steps, pecks at the paper slip, then takes off with it.
The three watch it go as if it had just stolen something official.
They hold their folders tighter, stand straighter, & wait,
Because that’s what people do in front of embassy doors…
Even when the sign behind the glass still says Open, & everybody knows it’s a lie.
6. 🏥 The Ward Without Patients 🩺
The place still reeks of bleach, sharp enough to burn if you breathe too deeply.
Beds all made, curtains half-pulled, monitors blinking steadily…
Even though there’s nobody hooked up.
The three of them wander down the row, dragging their feet,
Just keeping busy because that’s all there is left to do.
…
Nurse: “God, I just changed these sheets yesterday.”
Orderly: “Yeah, & nobody even wrinkled ’em.”
Doctor: “So? Keep doing it. If it looks right, it feels right.”
Nurse: “Feels stupid, that’s what it feels like.”
Orderly: “Whole job’s stupid now. Might as well admit it.”
Doctor: “Stupid’s better than nothing.”
…
The doctor flips open a chart, but it’s empty, with no writing inside...
Yet, stares at it anyway.
…
Doctor: “Vitals are fine.”
Nurse: “Vitals for who?”
Doctor: “For whoever shows up next.”
Orderly: “Nobody’s showing up. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Doctor: “You keep saying that, & still you clock in every morning.”
Orderly: “Yeah, ’cause what the hell else am I supposed to do?”
…
The intercom crackles for a second, then goes dead.
Everyone looks up like it mattered, then laughs at themselves.
…
Nurse: “Remember when this place was so loud you couldn’t even hear yourself think?”
Doctor: “I miss it sometimes.”
Orderly: “Not me. Less screaming now. My ears are grateful.”
Nurse: “Yeah, but at least screaming meant somebody was alive.”
…
She lines up paper cups on a tray & fills them with water:
Her hands shake a little, but she keeps at it.
…
Orderly: “Why bother with that? No One’s drinking it.”
Nurse: “Because empty tables look wrong.”
Doctor: “She’s right. Little rituals keep the place from going under.”
Orderly: “Rituals don’t pay back the Silence, though.”
…
A cart squeaks down the hallway by itself,
The echo bouncing like somebody’s pushing it. But there’s nobody.
…
Orderly: “There’s lunch.”
Doctor: “Dust casserole, soup of nothing.”
Nurse: “Stop. I’d actually kill for soup right now.”
Orderly: “Fine, soup of dust then. Five-star dining.”
…
They laugh harder than the joke deserves & stop quickly. The room goes quiet again.
…
Nurse: “Sometimes I wish someone came in bleeding, even just once…
Just to feel like this was real again.”
Doctor: “Existing’s real enough.”
Orderly: “Nah. This isn’t living, it’s coasting. Like pretending.”
…
Outside, weeds push through the ambulance bay, no sirens, no red flashing lights…
Just stillness.
…
Orderly: “Whole city feels fake without sirens.”
Nurse: “Pain’s still out there. It just stopped trusting us.”
Doctor: “Or maybe it figured out we can’t help anymore.”
…
One monitor lets out a single beep (sharp, loud), then flatlines into Silence.
…
Orderly: “Guess that was our last patient.”
Nurse: “Don’t.”
Doctor: “He’s not wrong.”
…
The nurse sits on the edge of the bed, pats the sheet like it belonged to someone.
…
Nurse: “Feels wrong, sitting here.”
Doctor: “Beds don’t care. They wait.”
Orderly: “Same as us. Just waiting it out.”
…
The bleach stings. The lights flicker. The machines keep their steady hum.
Three uniforms keep walking the ward, doing rounds no One asked for,
Holding up a hospital that forgot what it was for.
7. 🛒 The Market Without Buyers 🍊
The stalls are beat to hell, half leaning, tarps sagging like laundry nobody took in.
Wood’s chipped, crates splintered, old fruit stains baked so deep the smell never left.
Pigeons peck once, flap off quick, like even they know there’s nothing worth stealing.
Three of them stand by their stalls, hands in pockets…
Nothing to sell but too stubborn to stay home.
…
A: “Man, Saturdays used to be packed down here.
Couldn’t even move. People yelling, kids with bread all over their faces.”
B: “Yeah. Smelled like yeast & smoke, meat on the grill.
Now it just smells like damp wood & piss.”
C: “Whole street feels hollow. Like it forgot what it was even for.”
…
'A' nudges a crate with his boot, the wood groans, but doesn’t break.
…
A: “Still drag this junk out every morning. Don’t even know why anymore.”
B: “Habit, bro. You stop, then what? Market’s really dead.”
C: “It’s already dead. We’re just dressing the corpse.”
A: “Better dressed than rotting.”
B: “What difference does it make? Empty’s empty.”
C: “Yeah, well, at least the cobblestones don’t complain.”
…
They laugh, short & weak, then let it fade…
Pigeons scatter like they caught the joke, too.
…
C: “Remember that almond guy? Little cart, smoke everywhere?”
B: “Yeah, always burned ’em, but people still lined up like it was gold.”
A: “I’d kill for a burnt bag right now. Better than chewing on memories.”
C: “Memories don’t fill your stomach.”
B: “Cheaper, though.”
…
A slaps the top of a crate hard, the thud echoing.
…
A: “Sometimes I just hit stuff, y’know? Just to hear noise. Almost sounds like business.”
C: “Business of dust.”
B: “Dust probably makes more than me these days.”
…
A stray dog hops on a table, sniffs, & jumps down like it knows better.
…
C: “See? Even the dog’s got more sense than us.”
A: “Dog doesn’t have to clock in.”
B: “Neither do we. Yet here we are, selling air.”
C: “Air’s free, but at least it’s consistent.”
A: “Ghosts would haggle harder.”
B: “Ghosts got better credit, too.”
…
They crack up at that One, loud & stupid, then it dies just as fast.
…
B: “You know what I’d settle for? Just One person asking a price. Doesn’t even matter what.”
C: “Yeah, & what would you say? ‘One apple, zero bucks?’”
B: “Don’t care. I’d hand it over just to hear somebody’s voice that wasn’t yours.”
A: “Cheapest stall in the city.”
B: “Most honest One, too.”
…
The clock tower strikes noon with a long, hollow clang.
Once it meant chaos, shouting, coins slapping counters.
Now it just rattles the windows & fades out.
…
A: “This hour used to choke you out. Couldn’t even breathe.”
B: “Now breathing’s all we got left to trade.”
C: “Whole place just exhales & waits.”
…
They lean against their stalls, arms crossed, shoulders slouched…
Watching scraps of paper skate across the cobblestones.
Three figures still standing there because leaving feels worse,
Like admitting the world is already closed for good.
8. ⛪ The Chapel Without Prayer 🕯️
The chapel’s doors hang open, like they got tired of shutting.
Inside, the pews creak when you sit,
Dust hanging in the light like smoke that never leaves.
Candles are still lined up on the altar, stubs burned down,
Wicks drowned in their own wax.
The stained glass leaks colour across the floor,
But it just makes the emptiness look dressed up.
Three of them sit scattered in the front rows, not praying…
Just talking low because the space feels like it’s listening.
…
A: “Man, Sundays used to be packed.
Couldn’t even breathe, people shoulder to shoulder, sweating through their nice shirts.”
B: “Yeah, & the smell, remember?
Perfume, candles, incense, whatever. Now it just smells like wet wood & old wax.”
C: “Guess God downsized. Took the staff with Him.”
A: “Shut up. Makes it sound like He’s running some busted business.”
C: “Wasn’t He, though? Collection plate was rent money for heaven.”
B: [snorts] “My grandma swore her prayers kept her alive.
She’d sit right there, same spot every week. She really believed it.”
A: “She still died.”
B: “Yeah, eventually, but not right away. She lasted longer than anyone thought.”
C: “So what, that’s a win? One for God, One for the dirt?”
A: “Hell of a tie.”
…
The wind pushes through the cracked window & shakes the hymn books on the pews.
…
B: “You remember the choir? Kids screaming those high notes like dying cats.”
A: “Sounded awful.”
C: “But it was alive. I kinda miss it. Even the off-key stuff.”
B: “Yeah. I’d take One bad hymn over all this quiet.”
A: “Not me. The Silence fits better. No false hope in Silence.”
C: “Shit, listen to philosopher here.”
B: “Nah, he’s right, though. Hope’s what killed half the people.
Waited for miracles instead of facing what was real.”
A: “& now we’re stuck with the leftovers.”
C: “Better leftovers than nothing.”
…
The bell rope hangs near the door, frayed & stiff. Nobody touches it.
…
B: “You think if we rang that thing, anyone would come?”
A: “Pigeons, maybe. Or dogs.”
C: “Ghosts. Ghosts love bells.”
B: “Ghosts don’t drop money in the plate.”
A: “Neither do we.”
C: “Yeah, but at least we show up. Ghosts don’t clock in.”
…
They all laugh too hard at that, echoes bouncing off the stone…
Sounding bigger than it was.
…
B: “Sometimes I think about kneeling. Just out of habit…
Not ’cause I believe, just… feels wrong not to.”
A: “So kneel.”
B: “Nah. My knees are shot.”
C: “Laziest atheist I ever met.”
B: “At least I’m consistent.”
A: “Consistent at what? Sitting around waiting for God to send you a sandwich?”
C: “Shit, I’d eat holy bread right now, no lie.”
B: “Yeah, stale or not. Better than chewing air.”
A: “Air’s free. Bread’s not.”
C: “Nothing’s free. Even breathing feels like debt these days.”
…
The stained glass throws red & blue across their faces.
For a second, it looks like they belong in some painting nobody will ever finish.
They sit there longer than they mean to, saying less & less…
Because talking in a dead church makes you feel like you’re being graded.
The candles don’t flicker. The bell doesn’t Ring.
Three figures, slouched on empty pews…
Holding onto a place that doesn’t hold onto them.
9. 📼 Broadcasting Without Listeners 📡
The radio station looks beat.
Windows streaked, tower leaning like it’s drunk & holding onto the sky.
The little red ON AIR sign still flickers now & then, buzzing like a bug stuck in a jar.
Inside, the carpet reeks of damp, the foam’s peeling off the walls,
& the mics hang low on busted arms with their cords all tangled.
Three of them sit there anyway, headphones cracked…
Voices going out into static nobody’s tuned in to.
…
A: “Mic’s still alive. Humming like it thinks someone gives a damn.”
B: “Yeah, kingdom of static. Real proud legacy.”
C: “Still better than dead quiet. Static at least pretends we ain’t totally alone.”
B: “Nah, Silence is cleaner. Static’s just fake company.”
A: “Fake company still beats none.”
…
Bits of foam stick to their sleeves when they lean back.
…
C: “Yo, when I was a kid, I’d fall asleep with the radio on.
Felt like aliens talking, like magic or something.”
B: “Magic’s dead. Just wires coughing now.”
A: “Still feels like someone could stumble on us, just spinning the dial.”
C: “Yeah, by accident. Accident’s the only way anyone listens anymore.”
B: “Or on purpose. Waiting for the world to finally admit it’s done.”
…
The red sign sputters again, buzzing weakly.
…
A: “So what would you even say if somebody tuned in right now?”
B: “Nothing. I’d just breathe in the mic.
Let ’em hear lungs, let ’em know the dark’s still breathing.”
C: “Creepy as hell, man.”
B: “Better creepy than boring.”
A: “Nah, you’d choke. First real listener in years? You’d freeze.”
B: “Doesn’t matter. Names, words, they get chewed up by static anyway.”
C: “That’s the most Fucked Up shit I’ve heard all week.”
B: “Good. Somebody’s gotta say it.”
…
The old reel-to-reel jerks once, tape twitching, then gives up.
…
C: “Wild how we still talk like it matters.”
A: “Matters to us. If we shut up, this place turns into a coffin.”
B: “It already is. Just happens to have microphones.”
C: “Guess that makes us the ghosts.”
A: “Ghosts with decent sound quality.”
…
They crack up too loudly. The padded walls spat the laughter back, warped.
…
B: “You ever notice static never stops? Like the universe just mumbling bullshit forever.”
C: “Maybe that’s God’s voice. Not words, just noise.”
A: “If that’s God, He needs a better transmitter.”
B: “Maybe He hung up.”
C: “Left us on hold for eternity.”
A: “Planet’s been on hold for years, bro.”
…
The ON AIR light flickers again, dimmer, like it’s about to give up.
…
C: “Think about it… no listeners, no calls, nothing.
Just us talking to dead air. That’s the realest broadcast we’ve ever done.”
A: “So headline reads: Dead air talks about itself?”
B: “Nah. Headline’s this: nothing keeps talking, & nothing keeps listening.”
…
One of the chairs squeaks as they shift.
Outside, the tower groans in the wind, like it’s ready to fall but too stubborn to.
They sit there anyway, mics hot, words sliding into static…
Three voices pushing against a world that won’t push back.
10. 🪦 The Cemetery Without Graves ⚰️
The gate hangs crooked & squeaks when the wind shoves it.
It doesn’t even look like a graveyard half the Time;
More like some busted backyard somebody gave up mowing.
Grass patchy, dirt bare, & weeds creeping through like they own it.
No stones, no flowers, & no carved names…
Just ground that swallows & never spits back.
The sky’s heavy, gray, & feels like it wants to sit…
Right on top of the place & shut it down.
…
A: “So this it? Graveyard with no graves. Looks like somebody screwed up the recipe.”
B: “Nah, man, this is the recipe. Body goes in, dirt shuts the lid, story’s over.”
C: “Names fade faster than rain on glass. Nobody’s out here carving forever.”
A: “Still busted, though. Should at least be, I dunno, a stick, a rock, something.”
B: “Props, that’s all stones ever were. Living people trying to feel like the dead give a shit.”
C: “Dirt don’t clap, bro. Dirt just eats, slow & steady, no leftovers.”
…
A crow yells once, cuts itself off, like it figured no One cared.
…
A: “You ever see them marble angels? Fancy as hell, chipped before the bones even cold.”
B: “Whole business of fake shiny grief. For who? Worms don’t take pictures.”
C: “That’s why this bare ground’s honest. No lies, no halo, no damn roses.”
A: “Honest looks cheap.”
B: “Cheap’s the truth. Granite doesn’t stop skulls cracking.”
C: “Roses rot faster than hope anyway.”
…
The dust spins once, & falls like it forgot the trick.
…
A: “Could Stack rocks, scratch a word, make it look like something lasted.”
B: “Who’s looking? No mourners strolling in, clapping for your stone pile.”
C: “Rain’ll wash it, weeds’ll choke it, week later it’s gone. Dirt don’t lose.”
A: “So why we here?”
B: “Same reason dirt’s here. Nowhere else.”
C: “Difference is dirt... don’t waste breath talking circles.”
…
Patches sit quietly... No flowers, & no promise… just ground holding its mouth shut.
…
A: “Where’s your name go when you’re gone?”
B: “Nowhere. Name rots quicker than meat.”
C: “Even dirt forgets after long enough. Just hum. Blank hum in the dark.”
A: “That’s cold.”
B: “Cold’s better than fake warm. At least it’s not lying.”
C: “Fake warm’ll poison you faster than the grave.”
…
The sky sags lower & feels heavier… like it’s leaning in.
Voices spill ragged, cut with uh’s, mm’s…
Like drunk mouths talking over each other at a table nobody ever sat at.
Not people, not ghosts...
Just noise leaking out of the soil, words without owners, buzzing like bad radio.
…
A: “So what’s the punchline? Dirt chat, crow scream, then lights out?”
B: “That’s the finale, man. No credits, no curtain, just black.”
C: “Nah, not even finale. Just reruns till the ground gets bored & shuts it down.”
…
They giggle, cracked & sloppy, like laughter that doesn’t need lungs.
The ground pulls it under. The sky presses harder.
The field doesn’t move, nor Does it shift… just waits.
No stones, nor markers, nor any prayers:
Only Earth, flat & blank, never explaining itself.
The voices thin out, skip like static, then go quiet.
Nobody claps, Nobody cries, & Nobody notices.
Silence leans in, grabs the last word… & Dirt doesn’t argue.
I feel it already. The death of humanity is proceeding apace, on a daily basis. Most of the people still alive are completely unaware.
You do have talent!
I actually felt what you were saying…