Hello my peeps and welcome back to another Story Day!! *cue fanfare* Last week we started a new (both short and finished, don’t worry) serial story I called Voiceless. So check that out if you haven’t already to get caught up. 😉
If you are good to go, awesome! Let’s dive right in.
The Prompt
Write a story about silence.
The Story
Many sunrises came and went without another visit to the glade. The children passed the old man on the streets many a time, the girl always giving him the smallest of smiles even though the boy paid him no heed. The dream in his face had been quenched with anger, and this troubled the old man until he came to the conclusion that he must discuss the problem with the lad.
One dusk, as the sun spread vivid rays across the sky, painting it in hues of orange and crimson, the old man approached the hovel that the boy shared with his family. He knocked once and was ushered inside by the boy’s mother. The girl was there, eating what meager supper they had to give her. The old man had offered to take the poor urchin into his own home, but she had gently refused, no matter his many efforts. She always supped with the boy’s family, at least, so she had some food despite her lack of shelter or protection.
Greetings, magi, the mother signed. Please, come and warm thyself by the fire.
I thank thee, madam, the old man replied, lowering himself onto a stool near the brave flames. I hath come to speak with thy son.
Daryll? The mother glanced at her son, whose head was bowed as he toyed with the food on his plate. He hath not offended thee, I hope.
The old man smiled, pushing down a laugh. Nay, madam, nothing such as that. I fear it is I who hath offended him.
Raising her eyebrows, the mother reached for her two younger children, pulling them out of the room and leaving the old man alone with Daryll and the girl.
Thou hast not offended me, the boy finally signed, looking up. I was wrong to be angry. Thou art only trying to protect us, which is a noble cause.
The magi’s smile grew. Thou art humble. A good trait. And yet I fear there is much I have erred in keeping from thee. His face darkened. Songs should be learned, despite the consequences. A beautiful melody should never be lost.
None of the children of Firren hath ever heard a song from the mouths of those who truly understand music. Seriousness clouded the girl’s starry eyes. Perhaps it is better to keep these things secret. It will hurt less if we do not understand what we have lost.
Tears welled up in the magi’s eyes. Thou dost not understand the beauty of a song sung by a Voiceless – by a Songkeeper. And that is a far greater evil.
The door shattered just as the boy raised his hands to respond. A small voice squealed from the next room, though it was quickly silenced before Daryll’s mother rushed in, signing furiously as green-clad soldiers poured into the hovel, heading straight for the old man.
“Thou art under arrest for treason,” one soldier barked. He was the one from the gate a few days prior. “Thou hast conspired against those put over thee for thy protection and peace – and thou hast been spreading lies amongst the young ones.” He glanced at Daryll, who shrank into his seat. “Dost thou object?”
A heartbeat passed before the magi raised his hands as if to sign a response. Instead, he opened his mouth and replied, “I do not deny it. The young ones shall remember that the Voiceless have a voice, though others such as thyself deny it.”
Swiftly, the soldier struck the old man’s face, sending him to the ground with the force of the blow. “Spew not thy treason into my face, dog!” he snapped, muscles taut. “Thou shalt pay for thy crimes! Take him!”
Two other soldiers stepped forward, hauling the magi to his feet and dragging him towards the door. Blood dripped from his nose onto the wooden floor as the soldiers swept into the night, leaving no opportunity for resistance.
Tears streamed from the girl’s eyes as Daryll’s mother haltingly signed, He was a good man, yet none escape the Masters’ watch.
Daryll reached for the girl as her shoulders began to shake, her mouth clamped shut so as to prevent any sound from escaping it. Is there nothing we can do? he signed.
Nay. His mother sat down heavily in the stool the old man had only just occupied, staring at the spot of blood on the floor. Nothing except pray to the Songmaker that his life may be spared.
Then we will pray. The boy tightened his grip on the girl, holding her close as she watered his shirt with her tears. We will pray for his songs to be resung.
There you have it! There’s one more part to this serial. What do you think will happen? Is the girl right, that it is better to not know what was lost? Is the magi right in saying that songs should be learned despite the consequences? Is Daryll justified in his anger?
Until next time,
Take courage, pursue God, and smile while you still have teeth!! ^_^
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