Mute

It's almost inconsequential when we succumb to the fear of our own voice. Whether its the embarrassment of our so called inability to sing, or the uneasiness of speaking up for ourselves, or simply just to say the tender words "I love you". And yet, even the silence we produce we end up fearing.

Mute, from either qualm or some unknown reason, remained silent. Because of his refusal to speak, no one knew his real name. So they took the liberty of dubbing him "Mute", to which he had taken a liken to. Mute was thin and pale, his eyes were large, ruby black in pigment and always observing. Despite his speechless demeanor, he was not completely against communication. He would religiously carry a notepad and a few pens. He wore coats that had multiple pockets that carried more stationary, just in the event his notepad went missing. One pocket carried some notebook paper, one pocket carried index cards, and another pocket carried sticky notes. When necessary, Mute would quickly scribble down a response or comment to give to some nearby inquirer. He wrote with eloquence; his pen glided across the paper like a figure skater dancing gracefully on the ice.

Many would ask as to why he never spoke. However, his answer didn't satisfy their inquisition; "Why not"? Some would laugh at such a reply, but others became annoyed and would attempt to pressure Mute into giving a better answer. And everyone would try to get him to utter even just one word. But Mute would stand firm like a soldier in battle, never giving in to such behavior.

When Mute is not being interrogated, he quietly enjoys the life moving around him. He was the first to notice the mere changes in the leaves of the trees, the blooming of the flowers of spring, and the nomadic traveling of sunlight. He had no interested in the absurd rush of businesses and their captive workers, or the anxieties of society that has to be shared like a virus that people haven't discovered a cure for. Mute wanted to find his own peace.

It was only a matter of time when Mute's intentions were acknowledged in a meaningful manner. An older gentlemen approached him and asked, "Are you afraid"? Mute stared inquisitively at the man for a moment before taking out a sticky note. Such a question had never been asked before. Although, there had been questions similar to it, but never a blunt question of that nature was brought up.

"Yes," Mute wrote.

"Of noise?" The man studied the sticky note as if it was going to produce the next response while in his hand. Mute pulled out his notebook instead to answer.

"Of silence," Mute held the notebook up for the man to see.

"How is that possible when you don't speak?"

Mute smiled warmly and began to blissful write out his answer. The man patiently waited for Mute to finish while a few onlookers stood afar to witness the event at hand. After a minute or so, Mute tore out the page he was writing on and folded it gently. Slowly he handed to the man without breaking his smile. The man gave an awkward, yet lighthearted, smile in return as he held the folded note. Mute rested his hand on the man's shoulder, nodded his head, and then walked away casually.

The man watched as Mute walked out of sight, unsure what to make of the situation that occurred. He opened the note carefully, and read aloud for any to hear what mysterious message was written down:

"I have been asked many things in relation to the reason I wouldn't talk. I've been asked why I was afraid to talk. And I am not afraid to talk, that's not the issue. I am afraid of silence. I have always been since I was little. I needed some form of sound playing to comfort me. Whether it was music, the tv, the dishwasher, the clothes dryer, or talking to myself . . . I needed it.

"But then I had an epiphany that struck me like a shock to my heart. People are afraid of things like spiders, monsters, some form of death, or even their own voice. But me, I was foolishly afraid of silence. So in order to destroy that fear I had to embrace it. I decided to become Mute. After the initial shock, I began to fully enjoy the silence. Not only that but I began to notice things I've never noticed before. Beautiful things that brought serenity to me.

"My quietness is how I heal now; how I enjoy life. So thank you for asking the right question. Sincerely, Mute."

A hush fell over the people surrounding the man. It was at that point did they understand how much of a coward they all were for they had feared silence. Did they really fear it so much that they would try anything to corrupt it? To take away the peace that comes with it? Within their deep contemplation did that calming feeling started to grow within them. It was a sigh of relief from the noise of the stress they walked away from. And as the wind brushed their bodies in approval, Mute sat in solitary taking in every moment.