Lost Voices

Evening loomed; dim sunlight pierced the leaves of the forest trees reflecting beautifully in water droplets. Birds glided from tree to tree with their song echoing through the wood. Their tune seemingly announcing the gale had passed to the residents. Deer galloped through the woods standing proud and tall, their hooves beating into the earth blending into the symphony as the squirrels squeaked leaving their burrows and the beetles buzzed climbing on the trees. The Forest noises spread, harmonizing into an exquisite melody. Alongside them, a constant clopping and creaking followed by the occasional small splash chimed in. It seemed to somewhat disrupt the flow, and any wildlife near these unusual sounds went silent. On the dirt path cutting through the heart of the wood rolled a merchant’s wagon. The coach held two figures in large cloaks pulled by a large horse accompanied by a drizzle from the storm’s remnants.

Silas held the reins loosely with a slight tremble, allowing the horse to follow the path. What horrors awaited them? Horrors he purposefully avoided, no, ran away from for so long. Yet he was riding, somewhat willingly, to experience them all over again. His throat felt coarse; he reached for the leather water skin near his feet and peeked over to the child beside him. Casen had to be no older than his daughter. Thirteen? Fourteen? Yet he gazed blankly and shallowly, not showing any movement even as Silas shifted. A despondent glare Silas had experienced before in men and even young men in his previous employment, but not a child. Considering the line of work, it was only a matter of time for those people. Hope or ambitions never lasted long, neither did most people. Seeing those eyes again was unnerving, and Silas could not deny his eyes used to look the same; hell, they may resemble that soon enough. Taking a swig from the skin, Silas returned his attention to the road.

When had he become so charitable? He had already saved the boy’s life when he appeared on his property half-dead, gave him food, shelter, and tended to his wounds. But this? It’s reckless, dangerous, and, not to mention, had nothing to do with him.

Extend kindness where you can…

Words of a lover long passed; they seeped into him like water to a sponge, despite his reservations. But at this point, could this be considered kindness? Or perhaps good intentions coated in cruelty? Rolling over a stone in the road, the wagon rattled. Silas wavered from side to side, water droplets flowing down the hood of his cloak. Casen maintained a blank stare on the road like he was expecting something to be at the end of it. Silas dreaded this, praying for it to be over as soon as possible, yet hoping they would never reach their destination. Small streams of rainwater coursed down Casen’s face like tears, he had taken off the hood, but his face persisted stoic. As the sunlight further thinned, so did the woods, and eventually, they left the cover of the forest. The sunset extended bright colors into the overcast sky while resting behind the outline of structures in the distance. Almost immediately upon their sight, the air became putrid and difficult to breathe, like entering a cloud of ash and rotting flesh.

   “We’re here.”

Casen said clearly without hesitation. The words chilled Silas more than the unwelcoming weather and smell; his brow furrowed. No turning back now. Reaching into the back of the wagon, he grasped two cloths which were next to a pair of shovels and firewood. Removing his hood, he tied it tightly around his face, making it difficult to breathe but the smell manageable. Handing the spare cloth to Casen, he stared at it a moment before doing the same. The forest behind them, its playful noises were void; only the clamping of hooves and wagon squeaking remained. Nature seemingly abandoning them. The eerie silence seemed to affect the horse, who started to shake its head and reel back. Silas pulled on the reins and exited the wagon, rubbing his hand down the horse’s neck.

   “Just a little further, girl.”

Silas led the horse pulling the wagon, palms sweating as his eyes skimmed over their surroundings. The structures he’d seen from a distance were crumbling, blackened from the touch of flames. A hand lay extended just past the rubble of one house, dried blood surrounding it; Silas winced, turning away. Attempting to avoid the destruction on either side of the road, Silas tilted his face to the floor. Minutes passed, and he froze; there was squawking, and shadows shifted endlessly on the ground. He lifted his gaze, vultures, too many to count, circled in the sky. Leveling his vision, they had reached the town.

Like a farmer scatters seed, bodies lay about, the stone road paved with dried blood. Shattered glass from shops filled the streets alongside the rubble from broken-down buildings. The mouths of the bodies remained open like screaming, yet nothing left their lifeless lips. Silas’s feet stilled like glue, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. How? How were there so many? This was only the town entrance.

Footsteps approached Silas; Casen stood there. Breaths short like he was choking, Casen’s eyes shimmered with a slight quake. Knee’s striking the pavement, Casen curled over, mouth open. He wheezed unable of uttering any noise at first. Breath entered his lungs, he screamed, weeping bitterly and uncontrollably. Silas turned away, lips trembling as memories of the past threatening his thoughts. A tug came at his cloak as the boy continued to wail. Glancing down, Silas looked at him gripping his cloak so tightly it was susceptible to tear. Steadying his breath, Silas knelt, meeting the boy at his level, slowly placing his hand on the boy. Casen released Silas's cloak and grasped his hand, the clench still tight, but shaking. Like Silas might disappear if he let go.

The boy had returned home to the place where only his voice remained.