Quiet

• Madeleine Hope, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2018

I met him in a field. The grass was long enough that even on the tip of my toes I could just barely see over it. The wind was pretty strong and I can remember the swishing sound the grass made as it was tossed about carelessly by the intermitant gusts. Apart from that, the world was silent.

He wasn’t a bad looking guy, he didn’t make me uncomfortable. The only feeling I got from him was one of…intensity? It’s difficult to explain. He was just, a lot. There were a few trees standing in the corner of the field and at first I mistook him for one – as I said, I couldn’t see far. He was unnaturally but not unervingly still. I approached him, not the other way round, I was curious as to what anyone else’s reasons were for being out there. He was amiable, said he was there because he liked the sound the grass made. I said I was there because I liked the quiet, he looked at me like I was speaking in tongues.

At the beginning of the encounter I was all for staying in contact with this man, similar to me in his mindset it seemed. That sentiment didn’t last long. Things were fine until the wind dropped off. He didn’t seem to like the quiet, he got twitchy and abrasive. I was getting nervous, wanted to leave. He wouldn’t stop grabbing me. My arm at first, then my shoulder as I turned away, neck as I wrenched from his grasp, hair as I tried to run. He said he wanted to hear me scream, said that when I screamed the quiet went away and so did the things that came with the quiet.

I got away. How would I have written this if I hadn’t? It was fairly easy, he wasn’t strong and didn’t really have his bearings. My mates say I was in shock, that the experience of nearly being kidnapped or murdered or something was traumatic enough that my brain flipped on the autopilot and retreated somewhere safe. I chalked up the ringing in my ears and the odd whispering at night to a result of the man’s ramblings. The thing is, its been about four weeks since I saw the guy and I mean, I know he wasn’t at all a sane man – not by a long shot – but nothing is loud enough to stop the ringing in my ears anymore. The whispers that my feet make on the floor in the night sound like words now. Nothing is loud enough. I need to find something loud enough.