The Sound of Darkness: Pagham-on-Sea

By C. M. Rosens

Alone in his Luton flat, Murat 'Mat' Yildiz finds his living room light has blown, and he is unable to go in. There is a distinctive sound in the darkness that he has wanted to hear since childhood - but growing up in the Jubilee council estate, Pagham-on-Sea, has left him with some gnarly memories of what lurks in the estate's dark corners. Murat relives a memory from 1998, but what did he really see in the darkness that night, and is it time for him to face his fear?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. M. Rosens
• Release date: Jul 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201551087

C. M. Rosens

C. M. Rosens is an author and fairy godmother of two based in England and Wales, but is lucky enough to have family and friends all over the world. She is a lover of the Gothic, the Paranormal and the just plain Weird. She wanted to go into acting once but was persuaded to "get a real job". As a result, she has a PhD in Medieval Welsh History, an academic alter-ego, and works part-time at a gym for job security. Summon her with chocolate, ghost stories and central heating. Find her on social media: Twitter: CMRosens Facebook: CMRosens Pinterest: CMRosens Instagram: cm.rosens

Book preview

The Sound of Darkness

Pagham-on-Sea

C. M. Rosens

Published by C. M. Rosens, 2021.

The Sound of Darkness

Pagham-on-Sea

C. M. Rosens

Published by C. M. Rosens, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE SOUND OF DARKNESS

First edition. July 24, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 C. M. Rosens.

ISBN: 979-8201551087

Written by C. M. Rosens.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE SOUND OF DARKNESS

First edition. July 24, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 C. M. Rosens.

ISBN: 979-8201551087

Written by C. M. Rosens.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

The Sound of Darkness (Pagham-on-Sea)

Also By C. M. Rosens

About the Author

Murat Yildiz stood in the doorway to the living room, his living room in his own damn flat, the flat he had been renting for two years now, and could not go in. The bulb had blown the night before, and he’d forgotten to change it.

There was nothing in there except his own furniture, his own things. A deeper rectangle of flatter, reflective black on the back wall was nothing sinister, no mirrored black hole leading to abyssal realms, just his mounted plasma TV screen that would cast its own light if only he could turn it on from the narrow hall. It reflected his own squared shoulders back at him, a vaguely outlined shadow-man grown into his adolescent fat and heavier-set frame, a stocky veteran of random scrawny aggressors on match days and Saturday nights. Here he was, stuck on the edge of his own living room laminate like a child.  

The bulk of the second-hand sofa was nothing more than that, hiding nothing behind it but cushions and a rug. He could make out the chairs and the glossy rags of old magazines Cheryl left scattered about the place.

Murat clicked the switch out of habit, but it didn’t do any good. Of course not. He