The Silence

[Eka 387]

I felt like writing another short story, and this idea randomly sprang into my head one morning. Please let me know what you think!

The Silence

The air is still, and there are no sounds to be heard outside. The darkness of my bedroom remains to be oh so inviting as it always is. I am comfortably laying in my king size bed and my clock's hands silently tick by in their usual fashion. The stack of paperwork I had completed today lies neatly sorted into two boxes on my kitchen table downstairs; one box for the stamped approval of my Boss, and the other for extra Real Estate Papers for oncoming families. Most would believe that a Real Estate Agent's paperwork would be fairly uninteresting: then again, can paperwork be exciting if looked upon from any angle? I generally enjoy my line of work. I help families, old and new, receive and legally own their most treasured possession for (more than likely) the rest of their lives. There are some days when eviction notices wander on over into my line of vision amidst the many piles of paper strewn across my desk, but otherwise it's a satisfying job. It sure beats working at a lumber mill, anyways. All of the work with less of the smell: well, unless you count the aroma of newly delivered paper. It follows me wherever I go, I guess.

I live in this quaint little apartment now here in the bustling streets of New York City. Sam, my cocker spaniel pup, and my best friend in the entire world, a Starbucks right across the road, provide me with all of the company I need (to be perfectly honest.) I had just moved here last week from the dusty roads of Wexford, Ireland, and am still trying to get used to the Big Apple and my new job. Its ridiculous how little goes on at night though, despite the fact that it is one of the most popular cities on Earth. Back in Wexford I could at least hear a bicycle’s familiar clicking as it flew on down the dirt roads, or some crickets making their melodic music on small reeds of grass; here, I don't hear so much as a breath of wind by twilight hour. I haven't been sure of what to make of this oddity exactly, but for the time being I have chosen to shrug it off and categorize it as either complete paranoia or the fact that I am more than likely not used to the norm here. I guess Sam and I will just have to learn to be city folk, now.

It's what's been keeping me up at night, though. The silence, I mean. Does that seem strange? Night offers a break for the body and mind: the wondrous thing known as sleep. Normal people would want total silence when they sleep. Normal people would probably not be genuinely irritated by something like this. I guess I'm about as far away from normal as anyone can be, then.

The fleece-lined blanket smothers myself in a warm embrace. The air conditioner seems to be working a little too well, so it is generally frigid in this apartment despite the warm summer air outside. I must remember to thank the movers for helping me move my belongings: especially the bed. ‘Seems it’s the only thing that can give me an inviting warmth now. I had spent many a night awake at a late hour, lying in my bed and staring at the ceiling. What could I place this blame on, exactly? I could not possibly be overworking myself just yet, considering the time I’ve spent here. Sam has made no noise downstairs, so I knew that my papers were safe. It’s infuriating how difficult this puzzle is to solve! It’s times like this when I wish Anna was here to offer some advice, or at least persuade me into believing that I wasn’t mentally unstable by nightfall.

Anna? Well that was an unexpected mention. I hadn’t thought about Anna since… well, since she had left the house with suitcase in hand. Why had she left again? Something about… poor living conditions… or perhaps her final hammering to the nail that was our constant bickering over career choices? They seem like such silly reasons to up and leave a house and a life with someone. I guess Sam ceased to be an Anna magnet after puppy hood ran its course: he always seemed to put a big smile on her beautiful face at any moment in time. Sam tore up a couch cushion? That hatred never lasted long. Sam dug in the garden and got himself caked in mud? Give it about five minutes and Anna would forget the whole ordeal ever happened. Anna was something special, all right.

Why am I thinking about this? This happened a long time ago, end of discussion: but as I reminisce of the girl who was once of my dreams, I experience a pang of affliction in my chest.

Home. 513 Polamy Road. Wexford, Ireland.

I cast away this painful feeling and fidget under the covers uncomfortably. Why would I bring up something like that? Anna’s leave was practically the entire reason as to why I moved here in the first place! I don’t need to think about Wexford any longer: I don’t need anybody! … But I long to hear something in this place: the silence is deafening. Please, let there be something, anything that makes one small sound in this city! I need to hear it. I need to hear a police siren, a car horn blaring and fading out slowly as it zooms by, a tree branch scratching against my window pane, anything! I beg, please! Let there be—

What is that? It’s… soft, sweet. It made my paranoia immediately come to an abrupt halt as my entire body followed suit. I practically felt like a newborn hearing its first cries. This, this wonderful sensation vibrating through my eardrums… !

Crickets. It was the sweet, melodic sound of crickets chirping, right outside my window. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face.

That was it. That was the solution to the complex puzzle! New York City was not my home, and my job was most certainly not giving people their most prized possession. The Second Cup down the rode held no merit in comparison to the rows upon rows of green fields in Ireland. Sam had seemed a bit down lately, as well. Perhaps he had found the answer to the question which I had spent a week trying to figure out: I had to return to my hometown.

I had lived there my entire life, and Anna had merely been a person whom I had come in contact with in the adult years of my life. When I was there I had felt a gaping hole in my life that needed to be filled, and she was able to for a while. When she left, I had completely forgotten about my previous life and associated my old home with her entire being. (Well that was rather stupid of me.) I knew what I had to do, right then and there. I tossed that circulation-cutting blanket aside and hopped right out of my bed. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and gathered some things (that I had previously unpacked) into the pre-packed cardboard boxes strewn across my hallway. I stuffed my suitcase full of my belongings, grabbed some shoes and a coat, and gave my final farewells to the place. It was twelve o’clock midnight, and I could have cared less. I would have to send the order to put the apartment space up for another person, and another regarding the deserting of my Real Estate career later: I would hitchhike for as long as possible, because I was going back home.

Nothing else mattered at that point. Sam started to make me smile a whole lot more, as well. I guess we were never really meant to be city folk after all.

EDIT: I got inspiration from a friend as well as re-reading a lot of Edgar Allen Poe short stories. :'D

FF.net link coming soon.

[Eka 387]

*looks around* Uhm... ?

*bumps*