The Silence That Follows

“Silence is not the absence of something but the presence of everything . . . It is the presence of time, undisturbed. It can be felt within the chest. Silence nurtures our nature, our human nature, and lets us know who we are. Left with a more receptive mind and a more attuned ear, we become better listeners not only to nature but to each other. Silence can be carried like embers from a fire. Silence can be found, and silence can find you. Silence can be lost and also recovered. But silence cannot be imagined, although most people think so. To experience the soul-swelling wonder of silence, you must hear it.”― Gordon Hempton

I didn't care much for rituals, the things of the past. My mother and father, like the rest of the town, held onto various customs. They lived in the past. That was how I saw it. Don't get me wrong, I love watching the change from spring to summer: the longer days, warmer evenings, and the way everything feels more positive as the bees buzz, the birds chirp, and the world's aroma is heady with fresh blooms and garden fires. What I didn't understand was the need to celebrate it and give a measure of gratitude back to... whoever or whatever. Pointless ceremonies that made little to no difference to anything, aside from the piercing alcohol-induced headaches and morning-after nausea.

"It's tradition," my mum would say every year. I can still hear the dismissive tone in her voice. We had argued before the event when I made it clear my intention to avoid the annual bonfire-leaping merriment. Not that any of that matters now. Not since the morning after the night before.

I woke up from the most pleasant sleep to a quiet house. That wasn't a surprise really, as it was the same anytime the village got together. Mum and dad were always out of action after a bender of an evening, especially if the Davises had brought a few batches of their best scrumpy to the event. To my surprise, though, the house was not only silent when I came down the stairs, it was a different type of silence. One you don't often experience in our modern, busy, and noisy world. The deathly silence when there's not the gentle buzz of technology in a family home, the sound of floorboards creaking, footfall on floors and stairs; coughing, chatter, and just life in general. There was a stillness, an emptiness that I had never experienced before. Had circumstances been different, I might have relished the experience.

As I walked around the house and found no sign of my parents, admittedly, I did wonder if they had collapsed in a drunken stupor elsewhere after all the revelry. But something in the air told me this was different. People think silence is an absence of sound, when really silence has its own sound. As I stepped out of the house, the same deathly silence was everywhere. On the gentle breeze as the morning dew slowly dried from the lawns of the houses, as I made my way towards The Clearing. The Clearing was the central point for the town's celebrations, a special spot in the middle of a circle of Douglas firs. The silence followed me from our humble abode to The Clearing.

Ten in the morning and the town should have been coming to life—people milling about, discussing the events of the day before. From leaving the family house to The Clearing, I had seen nothing and no one. Walking closer to The Clearing, it was clear something was very wrong. The only remnant that anyone had been there was the black scorch marks in the centre of the Douglas firs circle.

I walked around the circle, worried for a moment, stopping, kneeling, and taking a pinch of the dust in my hands. It smelled of burnt grass, wood, and something else. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Part of me thought it may just be my mum and dad's idea of teaching me a "lesson" about the importance of rituals and customs.

Turning and heading from the circle, I found the little pathway that led in and out of it gone. Just trees circled. The trees also looked taller... more impressive. For a moment, I thought it was just my obliviousness. Perhaps they had always looked like that, and I just didn't notice.

But deep in my core, I knew something had changed. Something beyond my understanding, something profound. As the eerie, deathly silence seemed to increase to deafening volumes, I started to wonder if the ritual... the custom the town had placed so much importance and reverence on, had wielded an unexpected power. I had often dreamed of my mum and dad and their ridiculous celebrations just disappearing, and it seemed that dream had become a reality.