The morning got into my eyes. I don’t have to rush out, so I enjoy the lazy awakening to consciousness. There is silence everywhere, although the sun outside sends in a sense of living noise. I am feeling the imminent threat to my silence. I close my eyes trying to shield my silence from the outside tumult.
Doesn’t work. I am awake and part of the noisy existence. I put on my slippers and go to the kitchen to make coffee. I am listening to this slurpy noise the coffee machine is making: sssllluuuurp, pause, slllluuurrpp, pause, sllurrrpppp…it is not even, sometimes longer on the sss, sometimes longer on the rrrr. There are so many things you observe when you decide not to ever make a sound again.
I decided to stop talking for the rest of my life. I came to this resolution because of Clemson.
Clemson is my good friend from childhood. He used to live right across the street from where my family lived. He and I spent all of our spare time together. Clemson was a great story teller, he would come up with the most fantastic stories. I’d lay down and listen to his stories all day long. Stories about pirates, about fairies, about girls and boys that are special, who would save the world from those bad men wearing gray suits. Wonderful stories that would make our lives different, that would put us in the same category with those special boys and girls who saved worlds so many times.
The bad men would always wear gray suits. Gray was Clemson’s color of distress, of danger and soullessness. As much as I loved his stories, his soulless, bad, gray suit wearing people were terrifying. I have asked him numerous times where did he come up with these terrible creatures, why would he always have some gray suit wearing people do those unimaginable horrible things. He would just smile and tap his head. Then we would again close our eyes, held hands, and the stories would flow.
Life happened and we parted away, still wrote to each other for a while. Lately, it was only the important dates, birthdays, kids birthdays, anniversaries. The stories ceased as well. Until last night, when I received Clemson’s last letter.
I wrote you this letter as a goodbye. I am leaving forever and won’t be able to contact you ever again.
I know you never questioned the way we communicate. You took the way I am as the way it is, and I am grateful for that. However, it is time for me to leave.
Remember the bad people from my stories, the ones that you didn’t know where they came from? These gray suit wearing people are the shadows of the human race. The human race that lost its soul and “lives” without its heart, Mother Earth. If you are silent all the time, as I am, you can hear their desperate cry for help. All this noise around us distracts everyone from the silence of the dead. You are all dead, Kris, and I was sent to help Mother Earth regain its consciousness.
And I found you. I found you, still living, giving me hope I can succeed in my mission. I tried to prepare you for what comes, gave you all my stories and trained you to listen. You are ready to take over, Kris, help the new generation to learn listening and reconnect.
But be aware. The gray suit wearing people are toxic. They got to me and this is why I need to leave. I feel I am becoming sucked in their noisy existence, I feel I am about to die myself.
I have trust in you. You’ve always been stronger than me. You will find a way.
The letter made so much sense to me. Yes, I have never wondered how come I can hear Clemson’s voice and no one else could. Clemson was part of my consciousness all along.
Because, you see, Clemson is a mute.
Written for the Weekly Challenge – The sound of Silence