Jun. 12th, 2011

i_id: (Flamethrower)
I should name a pair of characters Apophenia and Pareidolia.

The ice maker in one of my hotels sounds like two people. When it's just humming, it sounds like a man singing softly, or distantly. A steady, atonal little song. I picture a young patient, soft-faced and vague, sitting, staring, rocking, and singing to no one.

When it starts its stirring cycle, it sounds like an old woman whispering, complete with the click of loose dentures and the rasp of dry lips.

The coffee maker's reheating cycle sounds like a person walking in the kitchen and trying to be quiet. It shuffles and taps and hisses to itself.

At the other hotel, high tide percolating through the rocks under the lobby sounds like air bubbling up through thick fluid, and the sound seems to locate itself in the ceiling above room 107, for no apparent reason. Brings to mind the Death Drop, that Scottish myth about the sound of dripping water in a house foretelling a death.

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