Silence

One seeking to understand that which is beyond their grasp

            Utter Silence.

The darkness is pitch and I blink and wonder how so much blackness is possible.  I consider where I am and for a moment, then two, I listen.  I hear nothing and everything all together; the buzzing of cars, the forced air through the ventilation, the coursing of my blood through my veins and in my ears, the rhythmic dance of feet against pavement .  A thousand hearts beat in sporadic rhythm, thumping wildly, no song do they sing but rather a thousand pounding thuds, all hearts except my own.  I blink and the wetness pooling in my lashes breaks, running in wet ribbons down my cold face and into my ears.

Sitting up, I feel; I feel nothing and everything. I know every sensation, ever feeling, every single secret is mine.  Yet the blackness around me holds more secrets than I can guess at and the only sensation coming from within me is fear.  I'm afraid.  Why can I know and not know, feel and not feel, hear and not hear, sense and not sense?  My breathing speeds, no... I do not breathe and in every breathless second the urgency grows.

Am I dead? My mind races.  Yes, no.  I wonder, silently in the darkness, whether I will ever know another soul and I wonder whether I will ever search my own again.  A soul?  How can it be that I have never considered it before?  Frightening the things thought in the pitch and silence of the darkest hours, never will you know, my mind whispers and I cry out.

The silence is broken, the absolute screams of quiet quieted, and my own feeble echo of sound mocks me.  It rings in my ears and bringing my hands to my face I go through the motions of breathing, in and out, without the necessity to do so, simply for what is left of my waning sanity.

Then, creeping. The gentle sounds of soles on concrete grow louder and my pathetic attempts at normalcy cease.  I stop; stop moving, stop breathing, stop thinking.  I focus only on the sound.  Yes, footsteps, getting closer.   I lay down and close my eyes and pretend.  Pretend I'm sleeping, pretend I'm lifeless, and yet there is so little to fake.  I lay still, more unmoving than ever I could have imagined, still as the dead and listen.

The door opens.

Closes.

The footsteps grow so loud in my ears I fear my head will split.  Then, suddenly, there's light and I wonder for a moment if where I had just been, in the loud, silent, darkness, was the in-between place, the place the dead go to fear and realize and wonder before going toward the light or away from it. 

No.

No heavenly light shines, no warmth forms in my soul, only the flickering of candle light.  The tiny flame tries desperately to light the large space.  My innermost fears are echoed in that candle, one burning desire, unable to meet its goal, pooling yellow and helpless.  Blinking slowly, I search the space, and it doesn't take long for me to find what I sought, a form, a man, hovering just beyond the candle light.  He watches me, his dark eyes intent and reflecting the little flickers of the candle.  He speaks without speaking until finally I rise, placing my feet upon the floor in the silence, and wait.

He's silent; no explanations.  His heart ceases to beats, though blood courses through him as surely as though me.  He's unmoving, only watches.  He expects, but I cannot give him what he desires.

Surely, I am lost.

Reviews

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I love the way this was written! It was very poetic. I love the way you paid so much attention to the minor details, the things we take for granted. I'm still not sure exactly what this is about but reading it was beautiful.