” He’s infected us with his madness”
Other voices took up the refrain.
I thought they were referring to the small, black suited man, pressed up against the wall to my right, then realised they were all were all staring at me.
The walls of the ill lit room started to vibrate , emitting a noise I can only liken to that of finger nails being drawn down a wet black board.
The small, black suited man jumped back as though electrified and squealed loudly.
” It’s not my fault!”
“It’s his fault just like before!” shouted an old lady pointing a twisted finger at me.
“It’s the swans ” I shouted in reply “Surely you can hear them?”
“Rubbish!” Screeched the small man in the black suit.
Plaster rained down from the celling, and seeing no way of convincing those about me that I was blameless,
I turned on my heels and hurried from the long narrow room, trying hard not to run.