The Cost of Silence
Midtown
Dawn rose on Grey Town
Its meager light refracted off the Bard’s newly acquired wings as his alit on the rusty fire escape platform. As his song faded, so did the cursed wings, folding into nothingness. The Bard clambered over to the ladder, his nimble hands working the corroded latch until he freed it. Yet even as I watched the Bard’s victory, my own defeat began. Cloudy patches bloomed on my eyes, obscured my vision. My jaw clenched in frustration as my curse for healing the Bard’s mind claimed another of my senses.
The ladder squealed to the ground, sounding like a horde of screaming banshees to my hyper attuned ears. My hands clawed into the Baker’s chest as the sound ripped through my body. He gripped my arm empathetically, as the final crash caused me to wince in agony.
“I can’t hardly see,” I croaked, when I found the strength for words.
“Shit man,” the Baker whispered, his tone grim, “Those are the biggest cataracts I’ve ever seen. That curse is wicked as hell.”
I could feel the comforting hand of the Vino on my back but his face was an amorphous blob of muted color. The Baker lurched forward, causing the sky to spin and flow. He’d be the first to climb. I felt the Baker tense as he reached up to grip the bottom rung. My world was sea of gray blurs as we swung up and continued to climb. I gripped the Baker’s apron with all of my might. My hands never tired, another strange self preserving aspect of Grey Town. I could hear a thunderclap as the Bard clasped the Baker’s extended hand, helping him onto the grating. I had renewed their tenuous bond. They both realized what they had in common. Both of their lives had been saved at the cost of mine. Even now, with my eyes weak and useless, I could feel the cold hand of death slithering up from my wasted legs, its oily fingers massaging my heart. It would only be a matter of time before I’d have to make the ultimate choice: my crippled and useless life, or the lives of my fellow gray men.
We climbed for what seemed like an eternity, my eyes closing out the swirling landscape to keep my stomach quiet. The Midtown stillness silenced all conversation, each footfall tolling out a solemn knell, as if my funeral procession had already begun. My head throbbed with its terrible rhythm. I was a prisoner in my own body, my curse shutting my connection to everything and everyone around me. It stole my freedom and hearing and finally my sight. It wouldn’t be long before my mind was conquered as well and I would have no sanctuary. It was like dying in a dream, not knowing whether you’d wake up or be alone in darkness.
The Baker shuffled to a stop on the roof, the rustles of other gray man gathering around. Whatever vistas they could see with healthy eyes, they kept to themselves. I gazed wildly around, my blind eyes yielding only shapes and colors.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“Innertown”
It was eerie to hear the Baker, the Vino and the Pretender all whisper in unison, their voices thick with awe. After all I’d sacrificed to get our timid band to this point, I was the only one too cursed to view the reward. I hated it. My curse. This body. I especially hated this endless maze of barrenness and death and anyone twisted enough to be called its Maker.
I didn’t have time to voice my rant as a new presence permeated our group, descending like an Outertown thunderhead. Its darkness was palatable, a metallic tang that hung like musk in the air. Its very being made the air buzz electric and I could feel the hairs on my arms rising. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, far beyond the terror a Shade provoked. Waves of undiluted despair emanated from its Shadow. My head throbbed anew with its terrible presence, but my blind eyes could not make out its form. Its gaze burnt into my skull like a white-hot poker but my screams were silent. Sweat poured from my face as it fixed its gaze upon another. I could feel the Baker’s whole body tremble under this Shadow’s power.
“What…What is that thing?” my voice wavering and broken, “Please…Baker. What is it?”
The gray man did not respond. Perhaps he could not. The hum increased to a maddening frequency, making my stomach queasy and my pulse pound in my temples. I could feel the Baker’s neck bulge as he nodded at the creature, muttering a mechanical “Yes” to its silent request. The Baker grasped each of my wrists in his meaty hold. Plucking my hands from his apron, he tossed me aside like so much baggage. Yet I didn’t collapse immediately on the roof. He’d thrown me off the edge.
My withered legs flailed uselessly as I tumbled end over end. I smacked mercilessly into a rough canvas awning, tearing under my dead weight. It sounded like the sky was rent in two. Another awning caught my torso, my frantic hands clawing for a handhold, but it too gave way. I couldn’t even manage a scream as I plummeted to the pavement below.
The fall was excruciating. My whole body shook with tremors and stars exploded behind the clouds that covered my eyes. The rank stench of ancient garbage surrounded me. Had I survived or was this what death was like in Grey Town? I had to muster all of my willpower just to reach out, gripping the cold metal edge of the dumpster that had saved my life. Pulling my aching body to its edge, I vomited violently. I couldn’t even cry out for my friends. My voice was my own enemy. My fate was to be an easy plaything for some passing Shade.
I caught motion out of the corner of my cataract riddled eye. Its hue was far too light to be a Shade. I scrabbled toward it, waving my hands frantically. The shape halted, surprised and then raced toward me. I desperately hoped its intentions were not predatory, and I was rewarded. The gray man pulled me from the refuse, a blurry smile beaming from its face.
“They call me…my friends…call me Doc.” I croaked haltingly, wondering if the rest of the gray men got off the roof safely.
However, when this newcomer opened his mouth, his voice was like someone had struck an enormous cymbal. Its noise ripped through my pounding head like shards of glass.
“No! Be quiet…my ears. You don’t understand. Shut up!”
It was no use. So earnest was the gray man to see another like him that he could not silence himself. Each crashing word he spoke was like a deafening gong or a smashing bell. My ears felt like they were going to bleed.
My mind surged like a wild beast; all pain, noise and rage. A volcano of all my sufferings bubbled to the surface. The mind numbing rain I’d endured in Outertown. The oppressive silence that weighed on me in Midtown. The constant paranoia I felt against the Shades. My failure to save QB from the Grievers. The curse that pinned me to a body of death. The ugly skies. The maze of streets. The Shadow. The fall. And finally the cacophony that spewed from this man’s mouth. I hated it. I hated it all. My hands clenched in smoldering anger.
I hated the Maker most of all, laughing at us from the comfort of his hiding place. I’d do anything to stem the commotion, numb the pain, and quell the rage, crushing it beneath my fingers. I deserved restitution, for the twenty four days the Maker has stole from me. Twenty four days of being lost, alone, pursued and broken by his pointless curses. Never again would I let life slip out of my grasp. The crashing din muffled itself to sweet silence with my hands vice like on the Cymbal Speaker’s throat.
Dusk fell on Grey Town.
No worries everyone. Med school hasn't driven me to the edge or anything. In fact my week break couldn't have been more blessed. No schedules. No alarms. Just living life moment to moment without worrying about where I had to be and what I should be studying for. Even my usual distraction, the internet, wasn't needed. I got to enjoy the rare treasures of life. Getting to look into people's eyes and talk about the real things that matter in life. Now I'm back to the grind, but I'm refreshed and ready to tackle a summer semester.
Dawn rose on Grey Town
Its meager light refracted off the Bard’s newly acquired wings as his alit on the rusty fire escape platform. As his song faded, so did the cursed wings, folding into nothingness. The Bard clambered over to the ladder, his nimble hands working the corroded latch until he freed it. Yet even as I watched the Bard’s victory, my own defeat began. Cloudy patches bloomed on my eyes, obscured my vision. My jaw clenched in frustration as my curse for healing the Bard’s mind claimed another of my senses.
The ladder squealed to the ground, sounding like a horde of screaming banshees to my hyper attuned ears. My hands clawed into the Baker’s chest as the sound ripped through my body. He gripped my arm empathetically, as the final crash caused me to wince in agony.
“I can’t hardly see,” I croaked, when I found the strength for words.
“Shit man,” the Baker whispered, his tone grim, “Those are the biggest cataracts I’ve ever seen. That curse is wicked as hell.”
I could feel the comforting hand of the Vino on my back but his face was an amorphous blob of muted color. The Baker lurched forward, causing the sky to spin and flow. He’d be the first to climb. I felt the Baker tense as he reached up to grip the bottom rung. My world was sea of gray blurs as we swung up and continued to climb. I gripped the Baker’s apron with all of my might. My hands never tired, another strange self preserving aspect of Grey Town. I could hear a thunderclap as the Bard clasped the Baker’s extended hand, helping him onto the grating. I had renewed their tenuous bond. They both realized what they had in common. Both of their lives had been saved at the cost of mine. Even now, with my eyes weak and useless, I could feel the cold hand of death slithering up from my wasted legs, its oily fingers massaging my heart. It would only be a matter of time before I’d have to make the ultimate choice: my crippled and useless life, or the lives of my fellow gray men.
We climbed for what seemed like an eternity, my eyes closing out the swirling landscape to keep my stomach quiet. The Midtown stillness silenced all conversation, each footfall tolling out a solemn knell, as if my funeral procession had already begun. My head throbbed with its terrible rhythm. I was a prisoner in my own body, my curse shutting my connection to everything and everyone around me. It stole my freedom and hearing and finally my sight. It wouldn’t be long before my mind was conquered as well and I would have no sanctuary. It was like dying in a dream, not knowing whether you’d wake up or be alone in darkness.
The Baker shuffled to a stop on the roof, the rustles of other gray man gathering around. Whatever vistas they could see with healthy eyes, they kept to themselves. I gazed wildly around, my blind eyes yielding only shapes and colors.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“Innertown”
It was eerie to hear the Baker, the Vino and the Pretender all whisper in unison, their voices thick with awe. After all I’d sacrificed to get our timid band to this point, I was the only one too cursed to view the reward. I hated it. My curse. This body. I especially hated this endless maze of barrenness and death and anyone twisted enough to be called its Maker.
I didn’t have time to voice my rant as a new presence permeated our group, descending like an Outertown thunderhead. Its darkness was palatable, a metallic tang that hung like musk in the air. Its very being made the air buzz electric and I could feel the hairs on my arms rising. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, far beyond the terror a Shade provoked. Waves of undiluted despair emanated from its Shadow. My head throbbed anew with its terrible presence, but my blind eyes could not make out its form. Its gaze burnt into my skull like a white-hot poker but my screams were silent. Sweat poured from my face as it fixed its gaze upon another. I could feel the Baker’s whole body tremble under this Shadow’s power.
“What…What is that thing?” my voice wavering and broken, “Please…Baker. What is it?”
The gray man did not respond. Perhaps he could not. The hum increased to a maddening frequency, making my stomach queasy and my pulse pound in my temples. I could feel the Baker’s neck bulge as he nodded at the creature, muttering a mechanical “Yes” to its silent request. The Baker grasped each of my wrists in his meaty hold. Plucking my hands from his apron, he tossed me aside like so much baggage. Yet I didn’t collapse immediately on the roof. He’d thrown me off the edge.
My withered legs flailed uselessly as I tumbled end over end. I smacked mercilessly into a rough canvas awning, tearing under my dead weight. It sounded like the sky was rent in two. Another awning caught my torso, my frantic hands clawing for a handhold, but it too gave way. I couldn’t even manage a scream as I plummeted to the pavement below.
The fall was excruciating. My whole body shook with tremors and stars exploded behind the clouds that covered my eyes. The rank stench of ancient garbage surrounded me. Had I survived or was this what death was like in Grey Town? I had to muster all of my willpower just to reach out, gripping the cold metal edge of the dumpster that had saved my life. Pulling my aching body to its edge, I vomited violently. I couldn’t even cry out for my friends. My voice was my own enemy. My fate was to be an easy plaything for some passing Shade.
I caught motion out of the corner of my cataract riddled eye. Its hue was far too light to be a Shade. I scrabbled toward it, waving my hands frantically. The shape halted, surprised and then raced toward me. I desperately hoped its intentions were not predatory, and I was rewarded. The gray man pulled me from the refuse, a blurry smile beaming from its face.
“They call me…my friends…call me Doc.” I croaked haltingly, wondering if the rest of the gray men got off the roof safely.
However, when this newcomer opened his mouth, his voice was like someone had struck an enormous cymbal. Its noise ripped through my pounding head like shards of glass.
“No! Be quiet…my ears. You don’t understand. Shut up!”
It was no use. So earnest was the gray man to see another like him that he could not silence himself. Each crashing word he spoke was like a deafening gong or a smashing bell. My ears felt like they were going to bleed.
My mind surged like a wild beast; all pain, noise and rage. A volcano of all my sufferings bubbled to the surface. The mind numbing rain I’d endured in Outertown. The oppressive silence that weighed on me in Midtown. The constant paranoia I felt against the Shades. My failure to save QB from the Grievers. The curse that pinned me to a body of death. The ugly skies. The maze of streets. The Shadow. The fall. And finally the cacophony that spewed from this man’s mouth. I hated it. I hated it all. My hands clenched in smoldering anger.
I hated the Maker most of all, laughing at us from the comfort of his hiding place. I’d do anything to stem the commotion, numb the pain, and quell the rage, crushing it beneath my fingers. I deserved restitution, for the twenty four days the Maker has stole from me. Twenty four days of being lost, alone, pursued and broken by his pointless curses. Never again would I let life slip out of my grasp. The crashing din muffled itself to sweet silence with my hands vice like on the Cymbal Speaker’s throat.
Dusk fell on Grey Town.
No worries everyone. Med school hasn't driven me to the edge or anything. In fact my week break couldn't have been more blessed. No schedules. No alarms. Just living life moment to moment without worrying about where I had to be and what I should be studying for. Even my usual distraction, the internet, wasn't needed. I got to enjoy the rare treasures of life. Getting to look into people's eyes and talk about the real things that matter in life. Now I'm back to the grind, but I'm refreshed and ready to tackle a summer semester.