About the Author: The author, J, enjoys drawing and spending time with friends.
Sometimes the silence is more friendly than the people that surround me. I suppose it makes sense, the silence has always been there for me; people, not so much. I can always rely on the silence to be there, to help me work things out. Especially when people couldn’t.
I stepped into the quiet as I walked through the damp air of the cooling tower. All I could hear was the sound of my footfalls and the last drops of purpose falling through the cooling tower’s walls. The wispy atmosphere of history lingering in the closing of something long purposeless. A bit like me I suppose, maybe that’s why I like it here.
Moss had started to grow, making the walls and floors slippery. I stepped lightly, sorting through my thoughts as usual. As I walk along the fragile beams, a water droplet falls on my head, pulling me back to the surrounding world. Sometimes I wonder why people act the way they do, all harsh words and exclusion; everyone is just trying to make it through the day.
I walk to the center, looking up at the gray sky, filled with clouds. Birds fly over head, flying south. Sometimes I wish I could get away like them. I believe the most popular people are the loneliest; they can’t talk to anyone honestly, they’re afraid. Though I suppose everyone is.
I brake my train of thought to lower myself to the edge of the mossy rimmed basin; feeling the moisture seep through my pants. The moss seems so alive, thriving in its environment. Especially among all the nothingness and gray that surrounds the rest of the structure.
I pick up the familiar hum of my dad’s voice saying my name;
“Jordan,” he calls from the parking lot; he knows exactly where I am, “C’mon buddy, we gotta go home, Bamboo’s got his legs crossed!”
I hear his faint chuckle, and can’t help but smiling
“Kay I’m coming!” I shout back, hearing my voice echo through the hollow structure.
I begin to push myself off the ground, but my foot slides on the wet moss. I try to stabilize myself but just end up making it worse. I start to slide, then suddenly I’m falling. My elbow smashes against the side of the pit, and I’m falling. I hear myself thudd against the bottom of the pit, then nothing.
Becoming conscious, I feel the sun’s warm rays on my skin. I assume my dad found me and brought me to the the hospital; though it was cloudy when I fell. I open my eyes, and much to my surprise, get greeted by bright greenery and crystal clear skies. My nostrils fill with air cleaner than any city’s, and I know I’m not anywhere familiar.
Taking in the majesty of the world around me, I stand and realize I’m on top of a mountain, not one I’ve ever seen before; I’m not in Belgium anymore. As I come to the realization of where I am, or rather am not, fear fills my head. I don’t know what to do, there’s no one around, and I’m all alone in a foreign, but beautiful, land. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I need to be smart, think, what do I need. Shelter, food, and water. I see a stream farther down but I don’t know if it’s safe, the mountain is primarily grass and so I can’t find a place to sleep, and food? Not an animal in sight.
I scan my surroundings looking for signs of life; my eyes land on a kingdom nestled in a valley of this mountain and the next. Although it’s too far away and I’ll never make it in time. Then my eyes land on a small house about halfway down the mountain, maybe I can find help and shelter, possibly even food and water, there. I take another deep breath, and start off down the mountain.
After a couple hours of hiking, and some knee-scraping falls, I finally reach the cabin, out of breath and sweating. It seems much more rickety than it did from the top of the mountain. There are portions of the roof that don’t have shingles on them, and I can hear the wind whistle through the house. As I walk towards the worn structure I feel the slightly overgrown grass brush against my ankles. I knock on the door, and it rattles from its rusted hinges.
Despite the state of the house, I hear footsteps walking towards me and the door swings open to reveal the rugged face of an auburn-haired man, piercing blue eyes scrutinizing my lanky body.
“Um, hi?” I say offering up my hand to him, “My name’s Jordan.”
He doesn’t take my hand, and instead barks back “Whaddaya want?”
“Just some food, water, and a place to sleep for the night” I say gesturing at the setting sun. His stern expression doesn’t change as I continue,
“I can help you, do something, I’ll work. I-I just need a place to stay. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m lost and confu-” he cuts me off.
Replying gruffly, “Whatever, Kid; I don’t wanna hear your life story.”
Stepping aside and pointing to a room on the left, he says, “Your room is over there. You’re up when the sun is, meet me out back,” he adds walking into another room.
I take a breath, taking in my surroundings; a crackling fireplace with a dingy stovetop, a small worn table with a bowl of plump fruit on it and two sturdy doorways fill the space. The room is cozier than it looks from the outside, and a sense of relief fills me when my eyes stumbleupon a pitcher of water. I meander over and take a long swig, relief immediately fills my parched throat. I grab what appears to be a pine-green apple, and wander off to my room sleepily.
Undressing for bed, I place my clothes in the corner of the darkened room. I spot something shiny on the floor. Looking closer, I realize it’s a ring. It has a small blue stone resting in a simple setting. I pick it up and put in on the table beside the bed. Climbing into my bed, I feel it engulf me in its down. I pluck the apple off the dresser and, welcoming its weight in my hand, take a bite indulging in the juice filling my mouth. I ravenously finish the apple and place the core on the bedside table. Resting my head on my pillow case, I close my eyes and fall into a smoky warmth.
Next thing I know, I’m back in my hometown; it’s a school day. 11:45 a.m. and I’m eating lunch. The blaring chatter of 350 kids fills the lunchroom; spilling out through the window. The stuffy taste of cafeteria food fills my head, for I’m sitting alone and I’ve got nothing else to think of. Alone with my thoughts once again. There are times when being alone is all I want, but, sometimes even I need company.
I wake up to a rumbling stomach and a sunny morning. Rubbing my eyes, I wonder where I am, and realize that this isn’t my bed. It was all just a dream. I lift my head to look around only to drop it seconds later in a sigh of exasperation, realizing I’m not back home. I throw the blankets off and feel the chill of morning air against my skin. Rubbing my legs I stand and put on my pants and shirt. I make my bed and walk drowsily out into the main room, all whilst pondering when I’ll get a chance to shower and brush my teeth.
My host is already wide awake cooking eggs on a grunge-caked pan. The savory aroma fills my lungs. I walk over to him, squinting in the brightness.
“Good Morning” I chime
“Mmm..”
“Mind if I have some of that?”
“Help yourself,” he rumbles, handing me a plate and fork.
“Thanks,” I say spooning some onto the plate.
A wave of steam hits my face. Turning away I pull out a chair and sit at the table,
“Hey, sir, what’s your name?”
“Ridruth”
I spent the day at Ridruth’s doing manual labor for him. We stopped for to eat a couple of times, but otherwise the day was spent under the heat of the blazing sun. When we finally finish and go inside for dinner, I head to the room I slept in last night. I lay down on the bed, resting my leg. The smell of small animal meat searing over a fire wafts into the room, filling my nostrils. The same smoky warmth clouds my head as I lay there, my aching muscles finally relaxing.
Ridruth calls out from the main room, “Come on Kid!”
Pulling myself off the bed, I stumble over to the table and sit down. We barely talk to each other, my head filling with silence just as in my dream last night.
I finally speak up, “I’m leaving tomorrow morning . . . just thought I’d let you know.”
“MMmmm”
With that, we finish eating and put our plates away. He heads off to his room, and I walk through the doorway of the room I slept in last night. With nothing else to do, I undress and slide under the blankets; falling into a steepness of sleep
Again in dreamland, I’m back in my hometown. This time I’m sitting alone in my room laying on my bed. A sea of blue checkered duvet, music blaring in my ears, and two voices screaming at each other over the sound of old 90’s beats. They scream and yell, dropping in and out of aggression. The tension between them builds and builds. I want it to stop, the noise, the arguments, the tear forming in my family; I want it to all go away.
It finally stops, and a door slams in a man’s face. The silence is back, back to comfort me, as it always has.
Light. Footsteps. I’m not at home again. I’m not laying on my bed anymore, I’m laying in the room of another, awake. As I become aware of my surroundings, the taste of stale saliva in my mouth. I want to clean it, but I still don’t have a toothbrush. I turn over to face the window, only to be greeted by rolling green fields traveling down the mountain. I slowly slide my toes out of the bed, and the rest of my body follows.
I walk around the bed to my pile of clothes and pull them on. I walk out of my room and grab some fruit from the table. I consume one and pocket the next as I push my chair in and walk toward the door. Looking around the room once more; I don’t see Ridruth and I dare not check his room. Sending a mental thanks, I step out the door. Taking in the green mountains and gray cliffsides, the blue streams and slightly clouded sky. I start away. Walking down the mountain just as I had when I started two days ago.
I’ve been walking down the mountain for ages, when I feel the first drop of rain on my skin. The sun is starting to set along the horizon; though I can barely see it through the increasingly clouded sky. The fresh wet scent filling my nose. I keep trudging along through the rain, staying under tree cover as often as I can. The pitter-patter of the rain on the leaves, and the wind rustling the trees fills my ears.
The hair raises on the back of my neck and I’m suddenly flush with the feeling that someone’s watching me. I stop and look around, but see nothing except the trees and grass that will always be there. As I continue to walk the feeling doesn’t lift. I begin to find comfort in it, as is the way with silence. Time has a way of changing things; and so I walk.
Then, the faint sound of footsteps behind me, turning my head, I’m met with a vicious club.
I open my eyes to a foreign environment, a pounding ache on my temple, and a sensitive bruise where the club struck me. I can’t see anything but darkness, but I feel a cold floor under me. Slowly getting to my feet, the world spins and I have to sit again. I finally stabilize myself and get to my feet.
With my hands out in front of me, slowly trudging along the floor, I feel out my environment. I find the first wall walking around its perimeter. The room seems to be about ten yards wide and completely empty. Solemnly, I sit in the corner to wait for whatever may come.
Again, the silence comes to me, and I drift away into sleep. Once again I’m visited by dreams of the past. Back at home, my mother’s gone again and my father’s sitting in his room. He thinks I’m asleep, but these days I rarely sleep. With thoughts of the past, present and future haunting my dreams, it’s hardly an option. What he doesn’t know is that I can hear him, hear him crying. Crying because she’s gone, crying because she was the sun to his moon; the light in his darkness. Together they had me, the earth, but what is the earth without the moon.
Sometimes I cry too, but because my light in the darkness will never be back. All the soccer games she was at, all the late nights, the times when my father was away. I’ll never have those, never again.
Eventually my father’s tears die away, getting replaced by husky snores, and again I’m alone with the silence. My new moon in the darkness, though its not as bright it’s there for me like the sun can never be.
I’m shaken awake by firm hands, the same firm hands that I shook on my first day here. Flitting open, my eyes land on the rugged face of Ridruth, with the same emotionless expression painted across his face. He lifts me up with little struggle, and carries me through a dimly lit hall, I bounce on his shoulder as he steps. He turns through a doorway gently placing my sluggish body on a cold stone slab. Gently tieing my arms and legs down with coarse rope; he turns gets to his feet, walking away from me.
He reaches the doorway, faces me and says. “I need to kill you.”
I don’t know how to process what he’s just said.
“What . . .” I mumble after him, “what do you mean. Ridruth please don’t, I need to leave this place!” he doesn’t respond, just walks away.
“Ridruth, why, what, w-what do you mean!” I shout after him, but all that follows is footsteps.
He leaves me there waiting for death, examining the actions of my life. Every little mistake I’ve made, comes flooding through my mind. Then it suddenly all stops, my mind, my will. The silence fills its place, comforting me in my final hours, just as it always has. Silence, my moon, my light, my friend. The white light of it blessing my mind with its presence.
But why? Could it be that it’s really been my enemy. My isolation, my thoughts, my sadness. The solitude, all came from it; or perhaps it came from me? Was human connection what I needed the whole time, yet I always pushed it away. I resisted the help others were trying to give me, or the help others needed.
There were so many times my dad wanted to do things, or go places with me, but I pushed him away. It hurt him, it hurt me. Spiraling us both down into rabbit holes of violent loneliness. What was I thinking. I want to see him one last time; apologize for everything, for not being a good son, for not being there for him. For everything.
Tears start to gather in my eyes and I can’t stop them, they start to flow. I feel them trickle down my cheeks, some falling into my mouth, filling my palate with salt. My want to see him grows and grows, only to crescendo down to the thought that he might not want me. The tears of questions and regrets continue to stain my face until footsteps approach. I don’t know how long I was laying there in the stench of my sadness. Despite, I try to compose myself the best I can all tied up.
Ridruth steps through the doorway, his air of grim death mixing with my sadness before calming me. We stare into eachothers eyes, a strange detached clam dissipating through to my bones. There is no sound, yet the silence is blaring.
Breaking the hush, he speaks, “I’m sorry” he pauses before continuing, “I don’t even know where to start.”
He looks into my eyes, begging, for what I don’t know, the answer, forgiveness; possibly.
“I have a daughter, she’s about your age,” a hint of a smile tugs at his mouth. “Her name is Calleigh, she’s being held captive by the people in the castle at the bottom of this mountain.”
I recognize the image of the kingdom in the valley of this mountain, as the one he’s talking about.
“She was just down in the kingdom for market day, we needed food and clothes; she went by herself, I was busy.” His eyes start to glisten in the torchlight.
“It was getting late and she wasn’t home yet. I started to get worried and set off for the kingdom,” tears start to pooling in the corners of his eyes. “I was late when I got there but the market was still open, I went asking around to see if anyone had seen her. One lady said she saw some palace guards take her into custody. She never saw her come back out.”
Tears begin to tip over the sides of his eyelids and fall down his cheeks, landing on his dirt stained shirt. “I went to the palace and begged for her back. They said the prince was weak, he needed a young healthy heart. She had one.”
In the space in his eyes that was filled with sadness just minutes ago, I now saw anger. Hot and bubbling, ready to do whatever it took.
“I had all but lost hope when you came along. You said you needed a place to stay for a couple of days so I took advantage of that, and on the second morning of your stay I woke far before the sun and headed to The Castle. I told the king that I could get him a young healthy heart that was not my child’s. He told me that if I could get it to him by the end of two sun’s settings, he would set my daughter free.”
He paused, letting me take in what I had just heard. I understood now, my life for his child’s. If I gave my heart to him, she would be okay.
“I had begun my trek up the mountain when I saw you heading down through the trees. I stopped, realizing that this would be my only chance. I followed you for about a half mile before I saw my chance. You had paused to look at the sky. I must admit, I wondered what you were thinking of at that moment. A young mind like yours pondering life’s mysteries. So I snuck up on you and hit you over the head with my club. I carried your unconscious body down the mountain, to the castle. The king’s mages took you and I followed. They brought you through the castle’s halls, to two neighboring rooms where we waited. I waited for a long while. They finally came to the room and told me to bring you here, tie you up, and return. So I did. I waited, thinking over what I had done. The guilt in me building. I was eventually pulled from my thoughts when they came to tell me they were going to remove your heart. I told them I wanted to explain it. Explain it all. Tell him why I did it. Apologize. They let me. So here I am,” he concluded. The silence of human connection fills the space his words had left in the room
“I forgive you” I spout. A look of confusion splaying his face.
“It’s okay, you did what you had to do. I hope she’s okay,” I pause to smile at him. “And, thanks for letting me stay with you.”
His tears begin again, and we exchange one last glance as he walks out the door, his shadow disappearing down the hallway.
As he leaves, I start to realize what’s about to happen. I’m going to die. Why am I so okay with this. I should feel panicked, anxious, terrified, but I don’t. I feel a calm nothingness. Is this what death is? The meaningless void of existence, of silence. Maybe, maybe not. I suppose I’ll know soon enough.
With the break in my thoughts, three tall men in royal purple cloaks walk through the doorway where, only moments ago my only companion in this strange world was. One of the men has a gauntlet in his hand, and as he walks closer to me a pressure builds in my chest. A final wave of panic fills my throat before crashing away. Pushing and pushing, till he stood over me, his hand resting in the air above my heart.
He speaks, “You are about to die, the royal family thanks you for your service.” With his final words his hand plunges down through my chest, and, without breaking the skin rips my heart from my chest. A feel every vein, vessel, and tube of it tear from my chest.
The last thing I see is his hand, my still pumping heart clenched in it. Then, a thick heavy darkness fills my eyes, then nose and ears, mouth, fingernails, wrinkles, throat. I feel it sliding through my lungs and brain, filling up every fiber of my being. The same silence is back, as it has been my whole life. Deep, dark and solitary. A blinding light follows, warm and welcoming, as it slices through the deep dark. I step into it, and I’m gone.