Just A Whisper

Sat in the clocktower, all one could hear is the absence of sound. The drought of noise. Footsteps of its past presence brushed away and dismissed. It was as though it never lived. A vision of clarity remained, presented as a state of calm. The beauty in the form of nothing, the lack of everything. It is a power so strong, bestowed on all beings, yet only used by some. It can change emotions, answer all questions, channel fear or bravery. It is the energy of focus and stabilization. It is…

Silence.

       There he stood, leaning on the balustrade of the clocktower. No noise. No sound. Nothing to break the peaceful harmony but his every so often breaths, the only indication of his existence. Or at least that is what it appears to be on the outside. Internally, his thoughts were blaring with needed answers for everything. His hope, his concern, his terror, all collecting and devouring any source of peace. Like a game of ping-pong, his mind was going on left and right about this or that. But alas, he was used to it, and just like any other person, what we adapt to can become precious to us. He loved this, he worshiped every moment of it. He treasured every second the air willowed quieter or the birds sang in a whisper. He loved everything about how his thoughts would ramble back and forth, but most importantly how he would find a solution to all of it afterward.

       Today, Andrew Smithson couldn’t hold back his smile from the silence. In the middle of the week, in the small town, at a time not significant enough to name, he was beyond elated. It was a gift, from who he didn’t care. He was simply content and thankful. He was the wisest man in town, but also the youngest full-time worker, just above twenty. It was just another Monday, where he could live wordlessly and peacefully.

       Oddly enough, out of all his rummaging thoughts, that ever-green tree perched in the middle of town was the most significant. He grew up here, he was raised and born here, but that tree was never shorter. Never grew or died. Sure, there have been a few hooligans engraving their initials for their so-called everlasting “Love”, maybe a few cut branches. But, still, it stood tall and sharp, sculptured as a symbol of independence. There were talks about it being self-grown, how it raised itself in that exact position, or about how it grew out at the end of a rainbow. Said to have a hidden treasure, but he was sure those were just some retired old-man’s tales. All he knew for sure was that it didn’t grow any fruit or any special leaves, it kept its so-called treasures to itself.

       “Nothing special…” He chuckled softly after himself as though it was a humorous joke, but—to himself—he wished that maybe it was true. Maybe it didn’t grow boring on people. Maybe it was still special in their eyes even if it had been there for so long. Maybe its growth and time didn’t affect its significance. Maybe it didn’t have to matter how much it stayed. He wished that its symbolism for independence was a symbol of something special too. It would still be significant for him. Remain enough.

       What Andrew was ignorant about was that he, himself, once thought of its insignificance.

       “Nothing special.” He repeated, but this time it was not followed by another sound, not from him at least.

       He turned back to meet the origin of the sound, the horrid being that shattered the beautiful silence. On a balcony similar to his, she stood arms outstretched. Her back was facing him as a rhythm played on her lips. His face morphed into a grimace. He was sure that the only person that came here, if ever, was him. He made sure to spread rumors about the clocktower being haunted through the town’s children. No one would dare come here. No one but him, and he was not going to change that now.

       “Excuse me, ma’am?” He spoke through his gritted teeth, loud enough for the other to hear through—what he would call—an interruption to the cycle of nature. A sound so atrocious it would drive away the proud, great tree.

       “Oh! Hello there, I didn’t ponder someone to be here as well. How fortunate, I get to share some of my joy. It’s Jessie.” The young woman spoke after she twirled to face him. He was already displeased with the interference, but this was much worse. He despised people in general, but something about her aura just seemed so euphoric, which made him want to jump off a cliff even more.

       “Actually, it happens to be that your joy has come off as a disturbance to my tranquility.” He spoke, his dripping with annoyance.

       “Oh, did I bother? My apologies, but today is not a day to be so stern, it’s a beautiful summer’s day. One of a kind that shouldn’t be spent in vain! You should spend it well too, Sir…?” She prolonged the last word in question.

       “My name is none of your concern as I’m afraid you are prohibited to make any sort of noise in this area of town for it is simply unacceptable. I would recommend the town theater or any other hall.” He settles for butchering any sort of way to waft her out of there, claiming authority he does not have.

       “I have never heard news of anything of the sort. This isn’t the town library, so I’m afraid you, sir, are prohibited to forbid a such. I do not mind your presence as long as you do not mind mine.” She says sternly, making it seem like she does have the knowledge and authority.

       “To make it simple for me and you, ma’am, I come here daily for a quiet peace of mind. This is not the only place you can be loud and ambiguous, there must be some other place that could do.” He blurted out rather quickly, not having any other thing in mind to say.

       “I could same the same back to you sir. My apologies once again for the disturbance, but if you come here daily then there must be some other day you can enjoy the quiet again. You can take this day to relish the beautiful nature!” He squinted at that; a hostile glare stood proud on his face. She did not seem bothered by any of this which only angered him further. The other still had a large grin displayed on her cherry lips, her eyes almost disappearing into her apple cheeks. He decides there’s only one way left.

       “My apologies, Miss Jessie, I’m Andrew Smithson. You might have been acquainted with my father, Steve Smithson, he manages the town's imports from the far deck. It’s quite far from the center of town as the name suggests but…” His words fade into his throat as he realizes he has never needed to continue further; others would apologize right away for disturbing him and scurry away. His father was very well known and respected, making people hate to bother him as well as they only want the best for the old man.

       “Oh, you’re from the Smithson’s, I suppose I must introduce myself as well. I’m Jessica Larchwood, although you would recognize me as Devan Larchwoo-”

       “The mayor?!” His eyes widen almost breaking out of their sockets, he could not hide his surprise. Now, this was unexpected.

       “Daughter. I do not prefer to bloat my name around, especially in front of such a glamourous scene, labels do not matter in the eyes of nature.” She corrected, leaving him in even worse shock.

       “I- Uhm…My apologies-”

       “Do not bother, there is not a reason to, you were simply bothered. As would I or anyone else.” He visibly relaxed, a sigh leaking from between his lips. This only leaves him more confused about himself. Why would it matter who she is, she is still bothersome…?

       But this time, he did not care what he should feel. In fact, he was comfortable with the way she looks away from him and into the sunshine in the sky, the way her eyes shine when she glances at the outside world, the way her hands sway to a rhythm he does not know. He did not feel like she needed him to do anything, he felt…comfortable.

       As the view settled, the wind rushed, and his legs were getting tired. He brought his hand up to the railing only to slip and fall, landing on his bottom until he sat on the ground. The floor was dust-filled, with grim and dirt probably from the time it was built. It’s embarrassing, he deems, however hard he tries to play it off by changing his position, it would still be humiliating. He was expecting a laugh or a wheeze or even a subtle attempt to shame him but all he heard was a little sound that he easily could have missed had he not been who he was. A soft, little giggle. That was all he heard before he felt someone sit right down beside him.

       “The view of the sky is clearer this way, I should have done this before!” Then after, that sound comes again. This time a little louder, almost intended. An adorable chortle. Her flowy, yellow, must have turned black at the bottom, but he did not have the mind to think of why she would do any of this, he has only ever been bothered by her. “You know, there is a saying that goes around here, and because we are buddies and all, I’ll share my wisdom. Whatever stays in one’s mind will one day go by with the wind-”

       “-then one day, their mind will go with the wind too.” He continued, “It intends that one should never twist and turn over thoughts.” He explains, knowing well that the other already knew the meaning. To him, it just felt right to say it, just the way it felt right to look off to his side towards her. He sees a flower crown nestled on the top of her head, one he did not bother to recognize before. A bliss captured in her eye and a beam on her face.

       “I hate the silence.” She blurts out, and his face darkens. What? “It is always so suffocating, and it makes your mind build up all kinds of trouble. If it is one that I have learned over the years is that silence just gets too tough sometimes. It may seem weak, but I do not understand why some admire such a thing when either way they end up frowning at it.” She chuckled, bringing up a hand to her mouth.

       It only confused him further. She was not weak, he knows it, then why would she say that? Silence was not that, then why would she believe such?

       “Why? Silence is beautiful. It lets your mind organize its priorities and set out a clear mindset. It’s lovable in all ways. It lets you speak to yourself without losing your mind. It lets your heart breathe from time to time. Everyone needs it.” His mind could not be more confused, questions, needed answers, and explanations.

       “Oh, hush, it is none of that, it is simply long and boring. It gives your brain space to make problems. It only makes life more complicated. I believe that life is not as complex as people deem it to be, it is beautiful.”

       “Well, in that case, a damp rag is beautiful.”

       “I beg your pardon?”

       “Silence is the only thing that is beautiful in this unforgiving world. It is the only thing that gives and never takes, never in need of an explanation or understanding, it just does. It takes the confusion and gives you answers, that is all anyone would ever need. It stays. Silence is just the absence of sound. Sound leaves. It always does, but silence is always left. Silence stays, listens, waits, cares. Sound is selfish, it is temporary, but silence is eternal. It has no age, has no person, has no favorites. It just exists regardless of people. Regardless of anything.” As each word spills from him, he realizes why, he realizes how, but he does not realize the single tear that slips to his cheek or the cracks in his voice, or how vulnerable he sounds. He does not care, and for the first time since he met her, she is silent.

       “I wish you could forget whoever or whatever left you but do not ever say that sound leaves. It does not, it just does not try to stay because no matter how long it stays it will never be enough for anyone. Not for you, not for me, not for anybody. Silence hurts, but sound heals. We all leave someday, Andrew, and just like sound, you too will leave.” She whispers after a long pause. He could not think of anything right now, everything flies past so fast that he does not even notice it when she stands up and brushes her dress clean. No no no no no.

       He looks off to the door where she left, like a chance that just got brushed away from his fingers. Maybe he will be selfish for once, run away once. Maybe he will force himself out of this. He might believe that he is able to live without anything at all, but not this time. So he takes his last chance, his last choice as if this is his last one.

He stands up and he does not take another second before he runs.

       He did not know anything. What he was doing, what he was going to do, what he will do, and what he should have done. All he knew was that he was done being silent, this time he had something to say. He had something, he felt something. It was a mere whisper, but he will hear it this time.