The screams started as I sat down to write in the three-season room off the back of our new rental house.
It was lower in tone than a cicada, but it had that constant humming quality to it that made it unbearable, like a low-grade headache.
I scanned the yard to see if I could spot where the sound was coming from, but I didn’t notice anything.
It continued for several minutes and then fell silent.
There was noticeable relief when it ended. I felt physically better somehow.
I cracked my knuckles and went to work on a short story that I was struggling to end shortly.