The Sound of Silence – a short story

In response to the Daily Post at WordPress, I’ll try my hand and keys at the weekly challenge they’re hosting: The Sound of Silence!

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We blog for a million different reasons, but in the end we’re all storytellers. Writing Challenges help you push your writing boundaries and explore new ideas, subjects, and styles.

To participate, read the challenge instructions and write at least one post in response. Tag your post with DPchallenge and include a link to this post to generate a pingback. Make sure your post has been specifically published in response to this challenge. We might just highlight some of our favorites on Freshly Pressed, on our @postaday account on Twitter, or in our quarterly newsletter.

This week, we’re asking you to make “silence” a presence in your post. We promise, it’s not as counterintuitive as it sounds!

The Sound of Silence

The moment stretched on, like a movie played in the slowest of motion. How the lights were hot against her skin. How the previous ringing bass sounded like zero. She looked ahead; strong eyes focusing albeit fighting off weariness. In her head she recited the words like how she’d do in a prayer. Naturally. Easily. Over and over so she wouldn’t make a mistake. These words she wrote, these sentences that rang truths of what she felt and experience: falling down, the loss, standing again and contentment thereafter.

For a long while now being surrounded with sounds and music was the life she knew she was meant to be in. Strained throats, calloused fingers and aching bodies were only little sacrifices for something as great and important as this. This right here was the fruit of everything she poured into — the tears, the sweats and blood. She, along with her teammates, at this point in time, surrounded by excited audience to their music was the very proof of all efforts paying off. She could never not get used to this. Every performance was a gift, every supporter was a blessing.

Yes, she sang the words like how she’d breathe. Her existence was meant to be in melody. And yet, right now, even when the sounds were loud she heard silence instead. People’s jumps were slowing, the noises were fading out.

Then the loud and yelling cheers were nothing. The proud screams of her teammates, nothing.

She thought she’d panic being unable to unhear all of a sudden. And yet she didn’t. She wasn’t afraid. She took this time to observe and relish this split second of solitary. It was as if it was between her and her music that shared the moment of silence to look how her teammates smiled and grinned while playing their instruments… despite the obvious dark circles around their eyes. The fans had their fists up and faces lighted up and were very attentive on them. Her family, standing by the sides, weren’t as expressive like the people in front the stage. Though she knew the proud smirk the curled at the ends of her father’s lips was an indicator enough that he was happy for them. For her.

Lastly, before the silence were gradually being replaced by familiar sound and music, she looked to the opposite side to see her Soulmate — her fated person, the one especially just for her. The person who was there when she made her first lyrics for the company down the first stage performance, first invitations, first live… and now.

And she smiled on the inside knowing she had everything at this moment, just this very moment, in this silence. As quickly as the strum of the electric guitar, she and her teammates were back rocking the stage and singing their favorites songs all night long.

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Well, that definitely rattled my head and made me self-debate and self-argue onto NOT aiming to submit a “perfect” piece for the weekly challenge. As I tend to be a perfectionist at the very first sentence I’d write I never get to finish anything. At all. Frustrating as it is, I aim this year to drop the “perfect” mindset and just simply write, write and write. Whether they’d be running off sentences, grammatically incorrect and simply do not make sense at all — I’d start writing. I’d simply start. I just know… I have so many ideas and thoughts in my head that I cannot accurately illustrate hence I’d write them all instead.

C’moooon, Jiandra. You can do this! You once wrote like there was no tomorrow, no worries and no insecurities. You can pull that off again!