Ghosts

There are some nights when it feels like all the ghosts come out to play. Old wounds open mouths, decayed by time and neglect, and with a ferocious and devastating moan, let loose all the plagues you had once thought conquered. Like a fierce rattling, it buzzes in the back of your mind until you cannot stand it and the bars that caged up those old fears and doubts break loose from their crumbling foundation, leaving you broken and weak amongst the rubble.

That's when it starts. The feeling crawls up from your stomach, one sluggish lurch at a time, until it sticks in your throat, restricting movement, air, speech. A buzzing begins, first it's just an echo, a distant disturbance in the hum of the universe, then it gets louder and louder until a mighty cacophony of all those tapes of disdainful words are playing simultaneously in your head. There's no way to make it, them, stop, of course. One voice fades out, another chimes in, and a few seconds later, the first is back to haunt you again...