The harbor of Poliant Haze is covered in white and opaque fog that carries the souls of time through the faces of the masses. The young girl rises from a soggy bench she was sitting on for how long she does not know and breathes in the intense air that has the smell of salty dead fish and tears. Faint lights appear in the distance of the vast void of the water, swinging back and forth, unsteadily and painfully slowly. The old man is back, for how long he was away, he does not remember and remarkably doesn’t recollect the faces of the masses. He trudges away from his boat in a trance that must be either of pure shock or revelation. There’s no food, so the people decided to leave, without seemingly noticing the aimless gazes of the old man, except for the young girl that decided to touch his soft and wrinkled hands that are full of thoughts the old man himself has forgotten. He looks down and gazes at her blue eyes, almost communicating with her, as if this was the only way to do it and always was. He turns and stares at the distance until the young girl realizes that he won’t move from the spot he decided to grow his roots in.

“What is it you’re looking at?” The old man was incapable of speaking words, devoid of

emotions and time. He was just staring at the sea as if he was always meant to do it and that was his purpose. It was hopeless and the young girl left him alone.

The next day the young girl ambles down the flea market of Poliant Haze, which is filled with ancient artifacts of the 23rd century, including the telescope and the remarkable invention of the lightbulb. The store owner, Francis, labels his clothes as “funky” and “trippy,” as they included a variety of tattered, colorful ,and admittedly unique French designer jackets. One pink jacket by Saint Olivier, which was on the front cover of the magazine by the same name, fixated the minds of Poliant Haze for years, as it was described by Louis Savvier, the owner of Saint Olivier. The individual wooden and wet shacks that were standing on the streets every day just have improved in their charm over the years, as new artifacts were discovered and brought back from the brave sailors that managed to come back from the travels towards The Sound. A being that unironically never made a sound that can be comprehended by a human or a machine. The location of The Sound is unknown. It has been discovered that the ocean that surrounds Poliant Haze not only surrounds The Sound, but also has changed its frequencies that were caused from the invisible organism that was discovered to be smaller than two square meters. Space and time do not exist, which is why the interior of The Sound, if there is one, could also be the size of this town, of a whole continent, or even the universe. Many philosophers, scientists and physicists have tried to find its location through many abstruse electronic devices that have been discovered and dug up from the last war, but most have not returned with any evidence of its existence, but everyone agreed that they felt the weight of The Sound, as they have traveled the seas. A biologist in the 22nd century was convinced that the butterfly in his jar that he named Frank was able to direct him to the sounds, and the biologist, who was from an unknown background therefore named Frank II, described in his best-selling book Butterfly and Wind that The Sound was not only an organism but an animal that once originated from the same species the butterflies originated from and has evolved by merging with the air of this planet, which made the people unconsciously aware of the existence of The Sound even if there is no scientific proof. Just the written words of a dying, old man who has returned from his travels without the butterfly, the jar, or even his clothes. Stripped naked, he arrived with only his book in his dead arms that stayed in that position for days it seemed. The young girl listens to the sales pitch, as she gazes at the lights that ablaze the town at  night. The young girl glances at the butterfly in the jar and touches the transparent and cold object surrounding it. She smiles.

A year later, the young girl meets the old man again, as he swims in the ocean, stripped naked and in complete unity with it.  

“Aren’t you freezing?”

The old man heard her and turned. He remembers the beautiful blue eyes and her touch, but most importantly the compassion he  felt when she asked for his being.

“I heard it. All of it.”

“What did you hear?”

“A butterfly. Have you ever heard the wings of a butterfly before?”

“An old man like you shouldn’t be swimming in the freezing water.”

“I’m not an old man.”

He smiles and dives into the water. The young girl waits for him to appear back to the surface. It takes an eternity. Waiting for a sound, a movement in the water or just the thought that the old man has swum  away and appeared on the surface elsewhere. She waited until she understood what he meant.

Bio

My name is Mathias Goeb, an international student from Germany, and a member of the international ambassadors, ASG and PTK leadership on campus. First and foremost, I'm a screenwriter, which I have been for many years, and always sought to write creative, challenging, but most importantly truthful and honest work. I have written 14 feature screenplays, and I'll also write a newsletter for the International Ambassadors.