Silence. All that was heard, that night, was silence. It was in a way a blessing. It was a virtue of sorts and it seemed as if even the wind was quiet. That was the night that silence had become a voice. My voice.
I walked to the train station, like I did every other day. The soft, crunchy snow of the mid-winter Moscow weather, squashed under my feet. Turning to a greyish sludge that most found completely unnecessary and ugly, yet I found beauty in the very thing that crossed my path. It was as though my mind never wanted to look at something and thought in any way that it was not needed, I guess it came from experience. One foot in front of the other. I thought as I slowly ran my daily routine through my head;
Step one: wake up,
Step two: get ready,
Step three: go to the train station,
Step four…
The silence that always hung in the air of the 1920’s building, welcomed me in. Platform upon platform of lost wandering souls, jammed the station with their everyday lives, Not knowing what had once happened on this very platform, not even 2 years ago. The giant clock located on the eastern wall chimed 8:00 . It was a clock that hadn’t worked since the late 1970’s, a clock which gave the right time twice in every 24 hours and chimed at 8 every moring and evening, holding no importance to normal passers-by. though to me it was a clock that reminded me of things I wanted to forget. Those smells of old spice and cold winters eve brought memories of the past into my restless mind. Memories I wanted to delete from my mind………memories I didn’t want to relive.
~~~~~~~~~
My heart stopped cold as one of the masked men held Kaden above the pulsing railway track. My heart thudding to the beat of the track as the tell-tale sound of the train’s deep chokes came closer. I watched as Kaden peered around with his huge emerald eyes, not knowing what was to become of his fate. He made little gurgling noises, some I would have cooed over any other day, but not today. Not when I knew that I might not ever hear those sweet noises again.
I slowly turned my head to the other masked man who had grapsped André's hair in his fist ; his body lay limp, tied to the post behind him. “Pick your choice sweetheart.” I cringed as the man’s cold, brittle voice, crashed against my ear. Deafening silence seemed to be my own lullaby. My heart collided against my ribs, as tears flowed down my face, never-ending, just like the pain in my mind. What was I going to do? Who do I choose?
My love, my soul mate, or my own blood, my own son?
I, once more, looked towards my son, my darling green-eyed baby boy still making his sweet noises. the turning wheels in my brain felt like they were slowing down, slowly shutting down. I could see the man’s hand calmly slide up, gun in hand, as he pointed the aim towards its prey. Kaden and i suddenly jolted from my current position and launced towards my baby boy, fear embedded in my skin.
Silence is a wonderful thing, is it not? As it captures every sound into its embrace and never lets a single note leave. Ever heard of the saying “when one of your senses are closed off, the rest awaken to make sure you don’t feel the loss of the first?” When silence wraps its fingers around your ears, your sight awakens with a challenge in its core. But would you want to see your son or love die? Who would you choose?
