"So it's true," he thought. "It's really true." - Meghan Jacoby

So it’s true, he thought, it’s really true. Absolute silence. The trees moved, and his dog looked eagerly towards them, ears perked. But no sound came. Green leaves swirled around him, and he tenderly reached out, grasping, and then he crunched it in a fist. He realized though, as he watched the particles float down, he couldn’t necessarily call it crunching if the necessarily crunch didn’t exist.


“Roger,” he mouthed, looking towards his companion. “Roger, come.” The dog stared off apparently still trying to listen for something that couldn’t be heard, as he realized no sound came from his lips.

He followed the gaze as it went to the river, rushing past him as it gurgled(again he realized he couldn’t really say that either) over mossy rocks in its way, flowing furiously downstream. Roger splashed into it, his mouth open in what should have been a joyous bark, yet seemed ferocious and frightening as teeth bared themselves, sharp and ivory. He looked back towards the mountain, and the passageway he had come though. The light that shone on him, warm and comforting, seemed bright, blinding and harsh in the noiseless haven. Water splashed him and he jerked as Roger shook himself before turning to point towards the once looked over object in his path.

A harp stood downstream in a still pond, which didn’t make sense as the river ran to it. He walked toward it, Roger following, although he had to assume the last part as footsteps didn’t exist. He moved through the water, noticing that with each step, the water stilled around him, and he prickly uncomfortably at the idea of getting stuck. If anything, the world seemed to grow quieter.

The scent of flora and fauna faded as the gentle breeze felt moments before faded to nothingness. The water was like earth, and he moved through it with surprising ease, feeling as he would be stopped at any moment.

He wasn’t stopped, but he felt a heaviness in his limbs that cause him to labor as he continued on. The light left but the harp still glowed, though it blurred before him. He felt panic then, and went to turn away, to go back, to escape the silence and the suffering weight of the unknown. But, he continued.

With an arm like lead, he lifted it, and a drop fell out into the water and the ripples froze around him as he touched the harp with a fingertip.

Sounds rushed him and he cried out, soundlessly as the world rushed around him, fierce and proud as all the while its pain was underscored by a gentle melody that sounded somewhat like a harp. He closed as the light faded.

Blinking, a man stepped through the passageway in the forest along with his dog. He frowned as the path seemingly stopped, and, frustrated, crushed the leaves that swirled around him. His dog barked happily as it splashed in the river, and he grimaced. “Roger,” he called. “Roger, come.” The dog followed his masters’ footsteps out, but stopped, ears perking. The wind, melodic at first, had stopped. Shaking his head, not noticing anything to cause alarm, he turned away.

Downstream, a drop fell into water, and the ripples stayed still.