Quiet Voices (PUBLISHED)

The Sound of Crickets and Sighing Trees

An opaque silence had settled and Miss Ellen was dorment. Her crimson heels were dug into the carpet. Her dress was a brown ochre; it held her chest in proportion to her body and covered her knees.

Her lips and cheeks were stained with pink dust, her eyes were the brightest green and her hair had been bleached blonde.

She held her posture upright with her head turned to the side, staring out of the imaginary window.

Her face had been frozen to capture a concerned look; her lips were pressed tight together and the wrinkles in her forehead made her look like she had two pairs of eyebrows when she frowned.

It had been the same routine for a while now, from six o'clock to half past she would sit in her rocking chair and stare at the wall, and I would always be cross-legged on the floor in front of her.

Occasionally, she would catch me looking at her and she would tell me in short, brisk tones that,
"A lady doesn't stare, Marie. It's not polite."
Then she would fold her hands neatly into her lap, and return her gaze to the subdued grey that was the wall.

I would try to imagine what she could see. I clenched my hands into fists and concentrated on the wall.

My window was a simple one, like he ones on cartoon houses. it was a small square shape with a black lead cross. Through this very window, the sun that I was envisioning had begun making scintillating golden patterns on the carpet by my feet; transverse waves of light running perpendicular.

My eyes shifted to the carpet where I attentively followed the sparkles, imagining the warmth of the sun behind me. The sun would have brought out my saffron shaded hair gone well with my sweet white dress and sepia skin.

I untangled my shredded legs and brought myself upright so I could eagerly step towards my window for a better look at the outside world.

"Can you hear that?" Miss Ellen sat unmoving, settling her bewitching eyes upon mine, "That's the sound of crickets and sighing trees."

I focused back on my window, now carefully placing the new sounds and movements into my fantasy. My head filled with a fairly loud noise, like a rolling chirp, and the wind whistled through the old oak trees; controlling them with ease, manipulating them into movement. They swayed back and forth, every individual leaf seeming to have choreography ever so slightly different to the one next to it.

I craned my neck to focus on the faint blue splashes of the sky and then dropped my eyes to the velvet green of the grass. It was so vivid I could not only smell it, but feel it against my ten bare toes; it was wet with rain and my feet squelched into the mud.

My hands were pressed up against the window pain.

A silken ribbon of murmurs came from outside the door, followed by the cotton blend of quiet voices that scrambled in messy zigzags around the room. The voices were slowly but surely overpowering my brilliant sun, taking over the entire room bit by bit and making their way towards my window.

Miss Ellen uncomfortably looked away.

Desperately returning my vision to the outside world, my mood was sunken as my dear crickets chirp had slowly started to melt into a mind-numbing drone. The wind had fallen silent, leaving the trees droop in a heavy-hearted sigh.

The once pretty sky was now as cold and dark as an undersea abyss, and the grass had turned brittle against my fragile feet. I turned to see the last of my sparkles shatter into the darkness as my brilliant sunlight drowned into nothingness. My hair had fallen brown against the night, and, as I receded back into my space on the carpet, my window shrank smaller and smaller, until it was there no more.

"This room's enough to make anyone go crazy," Miss Ellen warned, her eyes flitting from corner to corner. Suddenly she stood up, and made gestures with her hands as if she were making tea. her hands then fell to cupping a circle of air. She blew into her hands and made a sipping sound as she brought her hands up to her lips. A swallowing sound followed as she lowered her hands, still maintaining the impression that was holding some sort of mug.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, placing her circle of air onto another figment of her imagination and grabbing something invisible to me and pulling it around. She peered into the empty space,
"I have tea, coffee, orange juice...but no fizzy drinks."

I blew up my cheeks and then rested my chin in my hands, letting out a long, thoughtful sigh,
"I'll have some juice," I decided.

We sat together a while, and sipped our drinks.