Silence

Just a little thing I got the idea for in my English class and wanted to expand on without having to fit it to school requirements and such.

Chapter 1

The clock ticked, loud and ferocious and drowned out by every other noise. The light beamed down on me, sending shards of broken rays in all directions. I positioned myself so I was almost bent in half, shading myself from the unnatural light. I felt invisible and yet so exposed. So brittle and breakable and shattered. My skin burned with the heat of the light and my ears threatened to burst from the sound of those around me. I was seated in the centre of a room. It was too big, too open, and yet I was surrounded by people, so closed in it was hard to breathe. Exposed and yet hidden.

Around me everything was a mess of sounds. Unimportant. Irrelevant. Pointless. No one seemed to care. Although, that was how it had always been. Everyone else cared about stupid things. They talked about boys and looks and shallow feelings that meant nothing more to them that what everyone else was saying. They were barely real, barely alive. The only proof they had of life was a beating heart and consciousness. Not nearly as much as they could have if they stopped talking and started to listen.

Silence is a beautiful thing, when you can stay still for long enough to appreciate it. It radiates in a way that nothing else can. It can make you feel things you didn't know were possible. It can creep into your soul and hold you there, unable to move, until every emotion known to earth has swept through you, while you rock gently to the beat of your own heart. Fear is lost in silence, and yet it is the most prominent of all. Silence brings out priorities and love, and you can do nothing other than listen to it, because in the end it is the only thing that can make you feel real.

The people around me knew nothing of silence other than it needed to be broken. To them, it was as unnatural as they were, as wrong as everything in their eyes, in their souls. These people found solace in lies and hurt. It was as painful for me to see them killing themselves slowly with lies as it would have been to pull out a knife and cut myself, and even then I may have found more solace and calm in the latter.

I could get up and leave. I could whisk myself away to somewhere I could be alone, be silent, be free. It wasn't far away, the real world. I would be there before anyone would even notice I was gone. But I could never get there. I was crowded and stuck and forever bound to this miserable place. They would never let me leave. I was invisible to them in so many ways, and yet so easily seen, so vulnerable, just because of the silence I shrouded myself in as protection from whatever had infected them to make them so hideously wrong. They knew I was different, and they hated it. They hated me. Yet they would never come near me because I was so opposite to them. I was as insignificant as an ant, but I burned with the light of something so obviously out of place that I could never be unnoticed.

I could walk away, they wouldn't stop me, but they would see me and point at me and I would be reminded once again of how wrong I am to them. The only escape is imagination. A river, a sky, a feather, a dragonfly, a tree of autumn sharing itself with the earth and the water. Silence. Love. Heaven. I would lose myself in the freedom that comes with it all. Sitting in the shade I could breathe and relax, attuning myself to the precision that is the simplicity of such a life. Unrestrained and completely conscious, everything is perfect. The stars, the moon, the night. Alive and shimmering in the silence. The rain could pour down on me and I would welcome it, cold and wet and inviting. Everything would be magical in that place and I would be a part of it. Nothing could stop me. Except this place.

The dust in the air makes me choke and the shadows are overpowering and relentless. Life ebbs away, until it drifts into nothing and all that is left is the people around me, lifeless in the stuffy afternoon air, and even less important than the lifelessness inside them. None of us can breathe and we slip in and out of this reality, which is in fact, nothing like reality, until all that we see is blackness.

And suddenly there is silence. Real silence. I can feel life inside me, hold it there and treasure it. My pulse is audible and beautiful and no longer drained out of me. I can see stars and lights and the universe surrounding me, and I lose myself in it. Hidden inside me are screams of joy and pleasure, but I suppress them for fear of waking up in a hateful angry world I don't belong in. I can't do it, I squeal and clamp my mouth shut. The sound fills the open space and evaporates into nothing, leaving me wondering if it had ever been there. Nothing happens, I don't wake up. I close my eyes and open them again. Still there, still in heaven. All that's left of the painful world that was. All that's left of yesterday. Forever stretches out ahead of me and I take it's path, hoping for everything I ever dreamed of. I pass by what used to be, making my way towards life and eternity and I am happy. The silence is there for me, and I become a part of it, swirling into specks of shining light beneath the moon and the sun and the night, nothing and everything and happy.

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