A Deathly Quiet

Who knows when it all started, this notion that there must be no sonic gaps in a life, that silence is not only not golden, but it is in fact awkward and therefore unseemly? We have even gone so far as to attach the word and notion of death to silence. We have turned our backs on quiet and embraced a never-ending wall of sound.

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My Silent Brother, Cosmo

I found myself sat in a small, wooden chair within a good sized cage. Behind me, sat outside the cage were three dogs eyeing me intently. Inside the cage in front of me was small wooden box with an opening facing me. Through that opening, by the light of a bulb lit within, I could see pieces of newspapers spread like a kind of carpet on the floor. Resting in a heap to one side was a seething mass of puppies, making those funny chirping sounds that fat, contented puppies make. Then, from one side of the opening came a single puppy. He was about the length of my hand, unsteadyish on his feet still. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue. He tumbled out of the box, regained his composure and walked over to me. He gently took the end of one of my shoe laces into his teeth and stepped back until he had successfully untied my shoe. He then walked back over between my feet, sat down, curled up, and went to sleep. This was my first encounter with my future brother, Cosmo.

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The Dark Gifts

Long before all living memory, and even beyond the reach of history, there existed a time of what today we might call magic. It was not adolescents waving sticks and speaking incantations. It was not old hags burning candles in front of cauldrons filled with eyes of newts and toes of frogs. Neither was is prehistoric hippies chanting to trees. It was a dark magic, that sometimes granted dark gifts. The magic is gone, but these dark gifts still present themselves even to this day.
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The Two Homes

It’s been a long day at the salt mines. And like most such days it was filled with the usual joys, disappointments and petty maneuverings that make work such a mediocre place to spend such a large portion of one’s life. But at least the day is over. Thankfully the day was punctuated by numerous thoughts, memories, daydreams, of those he loved, loves, and misses.
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Three Questions

What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude.
It was like being exhumed, I answered. And brought to life in a flash of brilliance.

What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy.
It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.

What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow.
There was a long pause before I responded:

It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me – said all at once.

– Three Questions by Lang Leav

Special thanks to Leyla Guezel for passing this to me