Well, my peeps, I’m afraid I’ve run out of submissions for Ransom for the past like… 6 weeks. Which means I’m changing things on you again!! I know, I can hear the excitement in your groans. ^_^
Anyway. Enter a new serial, one that is actually finished (whoa) and decently short. So! Buckle up for Voiceless, a story I wrote for a contest thing before figuring out that it didn’t actually align with the rules. XD
The Prompt
Write a story about silence.
The Story
A girl with stars for eyes and a boy with a dream in his face once approached an elderly gentleman, clothed in rags, stooping over a cane. When he looked up at the sound of their footsteps, his face lit with an inner joy, a smile crinkling his eyes.
Magi, the boy signed, his hands moving quickly and clearly, we come for stories.
The magi stood, lifting one hand to sign, I know. Come, let us go to our secret Place.
The girl’s eyes shone. The boy beamed.
Together, the trio made their way past silent individuals clothed in gray rags and chattering rich folk in their bright raiment; beyond the dull, squatting hovels and glorious mansions; always with their eyes down and heads bowed, one child on either side of the old man as if to aid him in his journey.
Before long they had reached the outskirts of the city. One lone soldier stood watch at the small, wooden gate. His uniform was a deep forest green, his eyes as dark as the night. “Where art thou going, old Voiceless?” he barked. “Why the children?”
If it please my lord, I am taking them into the forest, to gather, signed the old man.
“Dost thou have clearance?”
Letting out an inaudible sigh, the old man reached into his tattered tunic and handed the soldier a piece of wrinkled paper, bearing a faded seal. The soldier barely glanced at it before handing it back. “Very well. Be on thy way – and return by curfew, or I will leave thee and thy wards in the Beyond for the beasts!”
Taking the paper back, the old man signed, May thy voice ever be strong, so quickly that it almost seemed insincere.
Together, the trio of gray-clad Voiceless shuffled past the gate and into the emerald wood beyond, where the breeze whispered in the branches as the ferns rustled underfoot. The boy took the lead, his flaming hair acting as a guide as he slipped past trunks until he reached a hidden glade, bordered by a small waterfall and glistening stream.
The children took their seats on the carpet of grass as the old man lowered himself onto the boulder, dropping his cane at his feet. Silently, skillfully, his hands began to move, weaving tales of the Golden Days when the songs of their people were revered by the world, of the clarity and beauty of their tones, of the days when the Voiceless had a voice. To accent his words, he pulled colorful ribbons from a small bag at his side and spun them between his fingers.
The stars in the girl’s eyes glowed. The dream in the boy’s face spread throughout his body. The magi’s old body strengthened with his silent words.
What were the songs like? the girl asked, when his weary hands had dropped to replace the ribbons in the bag. Wilt thou never sing for us?
Thou knowest that thou art forbidden from hearing songs from any apart from the Masters. The old man’s face was almost reproaching.
Aye, we both know this, signed the boy. Yet we are also forbidden from learning these tales that thou tellest us. Wilt thou only give us a taste and withhold the entire feast?
Hesitation flickered through the old man’s frame, his eyes clouded with thought. Abruptly, his face snapped into a firm countenance. His motions were sharp as he replied, Nay! Ask not of such things from me. I dare not endanger you so.
The girl’s stars were veiled. The boy’s dream shrank just a bit. They both nodded, their eyes to the ground.
Gently, the old man reached forward and lifted their chins. His eyes never left their faces as he signed, We must gather if we are to return before curfew without suspicion.
Nodding, the children got to their feet, brushing the grass from their ragged clothing. As they turned to go, the deep yet hoarse voice of the old man stopped them as he murmured, “May your voices be heard once more.”
The girl beamed, but the boy grew angry. Thou wilt not endanger us with allowing us to hear a song, just once, yet thou endangerest thyself in speaking? His back stiff, he turned before seeing the magi’s response, and disappeared into the forest.
*bounces up and down* What do you think? Was the Olden way of speaking a little bit too much? Do you like the idea? If you were to write a story about silence, how would you do it?
Until next time
Take courage, pursue God, and smile while you still have teeth!! ^_^
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