Places Where the Birds Don't Cry
rating: +19+x

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I woke up late again today… I really should start setting an alarm or something. Doc Rhodes was pretty pissed off, said I'm the worst secretary he's ever seen. That old man's told me that every day for three years now. When's he gonna lighten up? At least the work is easy.

He's been studying a bunch of papers and stuff from one of his patients' home. A guy called Raul Sounder, went crazy and killed a bunch of people. Said he was on some kind of 'quest for meaning', whatever that is. He had this weird obsession with the number eighteen. Rhodes called it the worst case of something called 'Pareidolia' he'd ever seen. Helluvva word, pareidolia. Anyway, I should go to sleep. That damn crow kept me awake all night… I really wish I could live in places where the birds don't cry all night and keep me up.


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I've never understood why people start off entries like this with 'dear diary'. It seems so stupid to pretend I'm doing anything other than writing in a notebook.

Anyway, it was a fairly good day today, light workload, just a few patients. Doctor Rhodes had me file a whole bunch of the Sounders stuff away, though, so it wasn't exactly a break. It's the oddest thing, those papers had this… stuff on them, not like dust exactly, but some kinda powder, like they'd been stored in a room full of the stuff. It gives the pages an odd texture, makes them feel strange. I got a pretty nasty papercut on one, too. It's swollen, looks infected.

At any rate, time for sleep. That fucking crow had better not wake me up again. I wish I could live in places where the birds don't cry at all hours of the night… Huh, I said that last night, too. 'places where the birds don't cry'. Kinda poetic. I like it.


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So, today was boring.

Rhodes was acting kinda strange, though. He kept babbling about the red light at the intersection around the corner from the building changing faster than the others. He would walk over and stick his head out the window to try and catch it changing. Ah, well, old guys like him are bound to develop a few eccentricities eventually, right? Go figure.

Oh! Also, I told one of the patients, an english teacher, about how I'd come up with that fun phrase 'Places where the birds don't cry'. She said she thought it would make a good title for a book or short story or something. I was kinda hoping for a better reaction. It is really poetic. places where the birds don't cry. Ha, a novel by Susan James.

Anyway, I need to go to bed soon. I kinda hope the crow outside is loud tonight, so I can complain about not sleeping in places where the birds don't cry.


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Doctor Rhodes is dead.

That traffic light he was freaking out over? He went out sometime late last night and hung himself from it. The police have been questioning me all day, 'what did he act like?' 'Did he seem all right?'. I told them he'd been talking about that light being off and it really bothered him, and they hmmd a bit and wrote it down, and that damn crow kept making noise the whole time. I told one of the cops about how unlucky he was to have to sleep in places where the birds don't cry, and he looked at me like I'd said something really strange. Some people, huh?

Anyway, I'm proud of my new pet phrase. places where the birds don't cry. places where the birds don't cry. places where the birds don't cry. Hey, if you say it like that, it sounds kinda important, doesn't it?

Anyway, time for bed. I'm so glad I don't have to live in places where the birds don't cry.


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I really need to get a job, but I don't want to leave the apartment. The crow outside is so comforting… I'm almost scared to go to places where the birds don't cry… Dunno what I'll do come winter. Fly south, I suppose.


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Places where the birds don't cry.


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The crow never made a noise last night. I'm worried. All night, I tossed and turned, waiting for that screeching caw to lull me to sleep, and it never came. I don't want to be trapped in places where the birds don't cry.


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Places where the birds don't cry. Places where the birds don't cry. Places where the birds don't cry. Places where the birds don't cry. places where the birds don't cry. places where the birds don't cry. places where the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry placeswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirds don'tcry placeswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirds don'tcryplaceswherethebirds don'tcryplaceswherethe birdsdon'tcryplaceswhere thebirds don'tcryplaceswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirds don'tcryplaceswherethebirds don'tcry don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon- ( Continues for several pages. -Dr.██████)


Researcher's note:

The Foundation acquired the diary of Susan James a short time after her apparent suicide. A neighbor noticed that she had not left her home for several days and phoned local police, who arrived to find that she had [DATA EXPUNGED] repeated several times. The particulars of the case, and its potential association with the Rhodes incident brought it to Foundation attention, and all files pertaining to Miss James were closed. Item number SCP-E-███-2, the 'Sounder Papers' were taken in for analysis.

Addendum: All researchers handling item SCP-E-███-2 must wear full hazardous materials protective gear. We can't afford another [REDACTED]

Two birds with one stone.
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