1982 Voices in the Static

Blue snow blooms on the family screen

Little hand lit cold and clean

The living room hums like a wiretap dream

And the walls learn how to breathe

Signed the paperwork smiling, boxes in the hall

New house, clean slate, matching paint on every wall

The neighbors waved — they’d all just arrived

Nobody asked what the ground looked like inside

Dog won’t go past the kitchen — stands and stares

Pilot light goes out but nobody’s there

The mobile in the nursery starts to spin

Didn’t touch it. Nothing touched it. Still it begins.

The dial turns but nothing tunes

Blue light fills the empty rooms

She’s at the set, it knows her name

Something’s here — can’t explain

Voices in the static

Reaching through the core

Small hands at the threshold, scratching at the door

Voices in the static

Louder than before

The house was never empty, spirits wake beneath the floor

The closet breathes a light nobody left on

The bedroom clock stopped ticking before dawn

A toy clown sits in the corner of the room

It disappears — something’s coming soon

The old tree taps a finger on the glass

A boy lies scared, hoping it will pass

A shape wakes beneath the shaking sky

Then the roots reach up and pull him high

They moved the stones but ghosts remain below

The lawn stays green on top of what they owe

Somebody’s buried under every lot

And this house was built right on the softest spot

Voices in the static

Reaching through the core

Small hands at the threshold, scratching at the door

Voices in the static

Louder than before

The house was never empty, spirits wake beneath the floor

TOY ROOM (coming alive)

CLOWN LAUGHS (fear for you life)

STATIC TALKS (the horror won’t close)

PULL HER BACK (before she goes)

Portal open in the closet light

Portal open in the dead of night

Coffins in the mud, the yard won’t keep

They built a neighborhood on bones buried deep

HOLD THE ROPE (hold the rope)

THROUGH THE DOOR (through the door)

PULL HER BACK (pull her back)

THE HOUSE WANTS MORE

The bed spins wide, the ceiling splits

The music box chokes on its own little clicks

Spirits hit like a fist on the door

The house wants a child and it’s asking for more

Voices in the static

Thought locked behind a door

Now spinning in a vortex, something screaming more

Voices in the static

Louder than before

The house was never finished, now it’s folding through the floor