Status: One-Shot Contest Entry
Silence Is Far From Golden
1/1
It was unbearable, she didn’t know if she could take it for the rest of her life. She couldn’t hear anything, it was silent. For Ireland, silence was a terrible thing, and now her life would forever be trapped in silence. Silence had always seemed loud to her, even more so now. It was empty and was wrapped around her like a blanket, cutting off all sound.
How can she live without the harmony, the intricate melody that is everyday life?
Her parents, though in her mind they shouldn’t even be called parents, didn’t see what was so bad. They thought that now she wouldn’t have to hear the fighting, she’d be happier then before.
It was their fighting that did this to her! What would really make her happy is if she could go back in time, to right before she walked into the fight, and answered her phone. Maybe the delay of a few seconds would have made a difference and she would still be the bubbly person she had been. But it didn’t make a difference now, she couldn’t go back. Things would never be the same.
She noted that doctor had just come in, and he picked up the mini notebook and pen that lay on the small table next to the hospital bad she slept in and wrote something down. Ireland inspected the message, and discovered that she was going home today. Taking a gulp, she nodded, and she turned her attention back to her musings.
Walking into her room, she saw her parents didn’t even think of taking the things she can no longer enjoy out of it. Her iPod, small and silver, was on the bed. She had forgotten it that day, since she had been running late for school. A CD player with a stack of CDs were on top of her desk. The small CD player had a radio built in, and had worked well for new CDs that had yet to be put on her iPod. And the worst of it, her guitar. In the corner sat the guitar she had long ago named Linda, the blue of instrument standing out against the white wall.
Walking over, she picked it up, and strummed a few chords. The magic of it was gone with her ability to hear. Feeling tears of anger welling up, she gathered all the things that were now useless and painful to her, and carried them out to the lake not far from her house. It was just down the road, and no one noticed her carrying what were once her most prized possessions to the lake, a determined look on her face.
Standing knee deep in the water, she slowly took a CD out of its case. Holding it like a Frisbee, she threw it out into the water, watching as it skimmed the top of the water. She continued to do this with her dozen CDs, and tossed the cases in as well. Next was the CD player. Picking it up, she walked along the edge of the water until she reached a spot far from where she had seen the CDs land.
Breaking the cover off, she threw that like she had the CDs, and did the same with the thick bottom. The bottom half didn’t skim the top like all she had thrown so far, but just landed in the water, sending a wave of it higher. She took the headphones and rolled them up into a ball. She pulled back her arm and released, sending them across to the far bank in a perfect arc, where the rolled down into the water.
It took a deep breath for her to make her way back to the pile of things that used to make her smile. Into the lake went posters of bands and musicals, some signed. Half of the t-shirts she owned followed, all with some band symbol or name on it, along with more then a few hoodies. Next went the buttons that she had collected over the years, from various music stores and concerts, and all of the stickers she had put onto the large piece of cardboard.
Then she grabbed the iPod. Without a second glance at it, she threw it as far away from her as she could, not watching to see where it landed. Finally she picked up Linda. Holding the neck it like she would a baseball bat, she swung the front of it onto a rock nearby. A sob was building up in her throat as she hit the guitar against the rock a second time. She fell to her knees, dropping the guitar onto the ground and shuddering sobs escaped her.
For what seemed like lifetimes she sat the, unable to stop crying, when in reality it was less then an hour. Wiping the tears from her face and the snot from her nose, she made her way home.
Aubrey smiled, and grabbed her camera from its bag on her shoulder. Carefully she set it up on its tripod and adjusted the focus before snapping what was thought was the perfect picture. A guitar, dirty with broken strings and an over all appearance that it was about to fall about, was the unmoving subject. Later that day, Aubrey would be developing that photo, and listening to the iPod she had found in front of a tree not far from the guitar, when she would get hit by a moment of inspiration for a title that seemed to fit it perfect.
Years from now, in some gallery, in some city, on one day or another, Ireland will see a picture that she knows she must buy. It was one of Aubrey Butler’s earlier works, entitled “Silence is Far from Golden.”
How can she live without the harmony, the intricate melody that is everyday life?
Her parents, though in her mind they shouldn’t even be called parents, didn’t see what was so bad. They thought that now she wouldn’t have to hear the fighting, she’d be happier then before.
It was their fighting that did this to her! What would really make her happy is if she could go back in time, to right before she walked into the fight, and answered her phone. Maybe the delay of a few seconds would have made a difference and she would still be the bubbly person she had been. But it didn’t make a difference now, she couldn’t go back. Things would never be the same.
She noted that doctor had just come in, and he picked up the mini notebook and pen that lay on the small table next to the hospital bad she slept in and wrote something down. Ireland inspected the message, and discovered that she was going home today. Taking a gulp, she nodded, and she turned her attention back to her musings.
Walking into her room, she saw her parents didn’t even think of taking the things she can no longer enjoy out of it. Her iPod, small and silver, was on the bed. She had forgotten it that day, since she had been running late for school. A CD player with a stack of CDs were on top of her desk. The small CD player had a radio built in, and had worked well for new CDs that had yet to be put on her iPod. And the worst of it, her guitar. In the corner sat the guitar she had long ago named Linda, the blue of instrument standing out against the white wall.
Walking over, she picked it up, and strummed a few chords. The magic of it was gone with her ability to hear. Feeling tears of anger welling up, she gathered all the things that were now useless and painful to her, and carried them out to the lake not far from her house. It was just down the road, and no one noticed her carrying what were once her most prized possessions to the lake, a determined look on her face.
Standing knee deep in the water, she slowly took a CD out of its case. Holding it like a Frisbee, she threw it out into the water, watching as it skimmed the top of the water. She continued to do this with her dozen CDs, and tossed the cases in as well. Next was the CD player. Picking it up, she walked along the edge of the water until she reached a spot far from where she had seen the CDs land.
Breaking the cover off, she threw that like she had the CDs, and did the same with the thick bottom. The bottom half didn’t skim the top like all she had thrown so far, but just landed in the water, sending a wave of it higher. She took the headphones and rolled them up into a ball. She pulled back her arm and released, sending them across to the far bank in a perfect arc, where the rolled down into the water.
It took a deep breath for her to make her way back to the pile of things that used to make her smile. Into the lake went posters of bands and musicals, some signed. Half of the t-shirts she owned followed, all with some band symbol or name on it, along with more then a few hoodies. Next went the buttons that she had collected over the years, from various music stores and concerts, and all of the stickers she had put onto the large piece of cardboard.
Then she grabbed the iPod. Without a second glance at it, she threw it as far away from her as she could, not watching to see where it landed. Finally she picked up Linda. Holding the neck it like she would a baseball bat, she swung the front of it onto a rock nearby. A sob was building up in her throat as she hit the guitar against the rock a second time. She fell to her knees, dropping the guitar onto the ground and shuddering sobs escaped her.
For what seemed like lifetimes she sat the, unable to stop crying, when in reality it was less then an hour. Wiping the tears from her face and the snot from her nose, she made her way home.
Aubrey smiled, and grabbed her camera from its bag on her shoulder. Carefully she set it up on its tripod and adjusted the focus before snapping what was thought was the perfect picture. A guitar, dirty with broken strings and an over all appearance that it was about to fall about, was the unmoving subject. Later that day, Aubrey would be developing that photo, and listening to the iPod she had found in front of a tree not far from the guitar, when she would get hit by a moment of inspiration for a title that seemed to fit it perfect.
Years from now, in some gallery, in some city, on one day or another, Ireland will see a picture that she knows she must buy. It was one of Aubrey Butler’s earlier works, entitled “Silence is Far from Golden.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Woot!