Nature is a name enshrouded in mystery. Some say it possesses a unique mind of its own and devises plans humans would be incapable of doing. It has secrets that are beyond comprehension of mortals. Yet at times, nature allows such secrets to be unveiled by a select few humans. One of such secrets is True Silence.
It was a still night – too still in fact. The overgrown pine trees lining the driveway rustled not the slightest, looming over, resembling silent guardians. The eerie northern winds along with its wailing notes had settled as dust in perforated holes behind door frames remained untouched. The wilderness too hushed as bats fled the area and grasshoppers and crickets bounded off, reclining from the aura that surrounded that house. If preciseness be employed then; that house on that very night.
While nature prepared its festivities for the next few moments, a girl lay under covers of a comfortable double bed, slowly noticing all familiar sounds around her diminish slowly till she was veiled in silence.
She kept still; not the slightest shift she took that broke the peace. Her heart thumped hard, yet quietly in her fragile chest, hushing up. Her breath was steady but it caught in her lungs for moments in which nothing moved inside the house. The swings of the crystal chandelier died out, scurrying insects buried into tiny fissure, the swaging tail of the Persian feline gradually steadied. For a few brief moments was ensured a brief moment of silence.
Silence that reminds not one of the rustling paper…
silence that reminds not of the uninvited footstep closing on your door…
silence that reminds not of the knife thrusting in ones chest…
It was supposedly silence that weights itself upon you and suffocates till you cannot breathe. Yet the girl lying in her room realized at that moment that this supposition was nothing but a lie. A big white lie for she heard. She heard not in the silence but silence itself.
She heard strumming. Quick plucking as if sticky fingers of a professional danced at the fantasies that slumber deep in the artist's core, awakening once in a while to produce magic. Behind it prodded high and low, a sweet hum.
She heard fluttering. Breezy flaps delicately paving way through the wind unto thirsty ears craving to know of the arrival of something beautiful and delicate as a butterfly in the world. Behind it prodded high and low, a sweet hum.
She heard thrashing. Wild intentions of nature let unto the world to be seen in the waves of the ocean as they rear high, thundering down on the shore, boasting both magnificence and power. Behind it prodded high and low, a sweet hum.
She heard rustling. Flaunting their spiraling paths, traced with beauty as their guide and the wind as their bearer, the autumn leaves fall off the boughs, accumulating on the leaf sprinkled earth. Behind it prodded high and low a sweet hum.
She heard a sweet hum. Devoid of an instrument it played, devoid of a medium it conveyed, devoid of a partner it swayed.
She had witnessed melody; the tune of her excitement, the peace of her joy, the thunder of her anger and the patience in her sorrow. She had heard them and yet not heard them for she heard them within true silence.
The silence vanished. The wind blew strong waking the house to creaking moans. The pine trees rustled as if whispering secrets. Bats shrieked in the neighboring skies. The crickets returned to their mating grounds. The tail flicked, chandelier swung, heart started beating and a sigh escaped, everything turned normal.
The girl realized then what true silence was. It was when ones inner emotions pluck at their instruments, letting one know the essence that resides in their heart. That essence is what distinguishes every person.
Yet as she lay there she was unable to decide upon the hum that sounded behind each emotion. It felt strangely familiar… like a fleeting smile of a loved one while they whisper "I will be back" and they never are… She shuddered at the memory and hugged her teddy bear before closing her eyes and wishing that the melancholic hum inside her heart was a recreation of the silence around her.
Alas nature works in mysterious ways.