Today's word is: Speaker!

               It just sat there. Doing absolutely nothing.

               I’d bought a pair of them in a garage sale down the road from a guy with a crooked walk, and an even crookeder look in his eye. He couldn't wait to be rid of them, sold me the pair for just under a tenner. Attempting to set them up in my car, I couldn't get the fricking things to work for the life of me.

               On the drive home, my car was totaled by some asshole in a red four-by-four. He just came out of left field and in the crash my boot sprang open and one of the speakers got absolutely crushed by a bus, which in turn burst a tire and went reeling off to one side. From there, I rang my insurance, rang my parents, and rang work. I wasn’t going in the next day; that was for sure.

               So I took the remaining (left) speaker, and caught a taxi home. My neck hurt a little from the jaunt, but I was more or less fine. Still, more than acceptable as an excuse for a day or two off from handing tickets out. I stared at the now lonely speaker, and the round pad in the centre seemed to stare back. It was a little unnerving, but mostly just because it rattled in my empty flat. I shook it, but the box appeared to move against me, as if it was trying to unbalance me. I set it down and pushed it out of my mind for a week, up until just now, in fact.

               See, I was watching reruns of Top Gear (there’s nothing on during the day anyway), and I was more focused on the groups of school kids walking by outside, when I heard a faint knock.

               I got up, walked to the door, but there was nothing there. Bloody kids, probably. I sat back down, and heard the same knocking. However, it sure as hell wasn't coming from the front door, but from somewhere inside. I guessed at pipes, first, and then at something banging against the wall from outside, but as I stood up, the speaker toppled over on its side.

               The strange knocking was coming from inside the speaker, so I snatched it from the floor and shook it again. The counterbalancing feeling happened once more, only it seemed worse. I didn’t want this thing in my house anymore, but as I walked to the door, I heard one of the creepiest things in my life.

               “Where’s my sister?” it whispered. The voice sounded course, crusty, like wires zapping from being a little damp.

               So what do I do now? This thing is still talking to me.