FIRST PLACE SHORT
STORY
Silversong
By Ben Dobson
Salmon Arm, British Columbia
Tears ran from reddened eyes
as the girl wandered down the dark street,
her body shaking as she sobbed. Every once
in a while, she would pass under a street lamp,
the light causing her wet cheeks to glisten.
The lights also served to illuminate another
feature, the long, silver hair that draped
over her sad face, shining like the moon on
a clear night, gleaming with the reflected
light of the lamps. The girl brushed the flowing
argent strands back out of her face, tucking
the hair behind her ear. No such minor annoyance
was going to distract her from her sorrow tonight.
She wondered if her parents were worried for
her.
“Serves them right…”she
muttered, sobbing as she finished the sentence.
She
walked on, by dark alleys and shadowed windows
that seemed to leer at her, promising
hidden danger just past the line where the
light ended. She knew that she shouldn’t
be out walking this late at night. The town
was a small one, but it had its bad element.
“Such pretty hair, on such
a pretty girl, ”a
voice behind the girl spoke, softly. “But
why is such a pretty girl out so late, and
why does she weep?” The girl whirled
about, her heart pounding, only to see a small
old woman standing behind her, peering at her
curiously. The old lady wore strange, brightly
colored clothing, and a shawl over her head,
eccentrically adorned with colorful flower
prints. Her wrinkled face was cheerful, yet
had a look of wisdom about it. All in all,
she looked unthreatening, and the fear flowed
quickly out of the girl.
“You scared me, ma’am,” the girl
said, smiling with relief, and wiping the tears
off her cheeks. The old woman’s mouth
quirked upwards in amusement.
“You’ve nothing to
fear from an old hag like me, young one,” she
said. “Now,
would you be so kind as to tell me the name
that goes with that lovely head of hair?”
“Oh, um, my name’s
Silver,” the
girl replied, adding, defensively, her usual
disclaimer: “I have odd parents.” The
thought of her parents brought with it the
sadness, and she gritted her teeth and swallowed
to keep from bursting into tears in front of
the stranger.
“Odd? Perhaps, but is that
so bad? Silver is a beautiful name. It has
more strength than
a… a normal name, you could say.” The
woman’s eyes sparkled enchantingly. "But
I see your sadness, when you speak of your
family. You have troubles at home, perhaps?” Silver
stared at the strange old woman, her brow furrowing.
Why was this random old lady asking her personal
questions? And why did she feel so compelled
to answer? And she did feel compelled, so much
so that the words rolled off her tongue before
she could stop herself.
“It’s… It’s my parents, they’ve
been fighting. And… and I heard them
yelling about…” Silver’s
voice choked off, and a sob shook her body.
She finished in a timid whisper, “…about
divorce.” She was crying again, her silver
hair falling over her face, hung low to avoid
the stranger’s eyes.
“Oh… You poor dear,” the
woman’s
voice was filled with deep sympathy, and she
moved to the crying girl’s side. She
wrapped an arm around Silver’s shoulder
and waited until the sobbing abated. Then,
she gently placed a finger gently under the
girl’s chin. “Here, let me just…” The
woman tilted Silver’s head up gently
and tenderly dabbed her eyes with the corner
of the flowered shawl.
“Thank you,” Silver
sniffled, wiping a hand across her eyes. “I’m
sorry, it’s just… Everything used
to be so good, until dad lost his job. They
really
do love each other… Or, they did, anyway.”
“Ah, darling, that’s
the way of it, sometimes,” the
old lady said softly. “There is much
pain in the world. And there is much love.
It’s a see-saw, you see. At different
times, one overpowers the other. But the other
doesn’t disappear. You parents still
love one another, the pain is merely stronger
right now.” The old woman paused, a strange
look on her face, sorrow and hope mixed as
one. “But perhaps… Perhaps there
is something that can you can do. You are a
singer, no?”
“I… Yeah. How did
you…?” Silver
was in the school choir, and, though she tried
to be modest about it, was something of a prodigy.
A voice like an angel, some said.
“I can always tell, dearie,” the
woman smiled warmly as she spoke. “You
have a feel about you, and that hair… You
were born to sing it. And although they didn’t
know it, your parents named you for it.”
“To sing it? Sing what?” Silver
looked curiously at the aged lady. How did
singing
come up, here? Maybe she really was just a
street loon.
“Well, dear, to sing the
Silversong!” The
woman beamed broadly at Silver, as if she was
expecting some kind of understanding at this
declaration. Then, noting the girl’s
brow crease in confusion, she continued. “Let
me show you.” Then, without waiting for
a response, she took a deep breath and began
to sing.
The first note almost knocked
Silver off her feet. It was the most beautiful
thing
she had
ever heard. A rush of pleasure ran through
her, driving away all the despair she had felt
only moments ago. Then, before her eyes, the
sound began to show itself. She could see the
notes winding through the air, strands of molten
silver that seemed to weave around her surroundings,
unifying them. No… the silver threads
had always been there, a part of everything,
she realized. The song was merely bringing
them out of hiding. She giggled in delight
as the music touched her, tickling her softly
as it drifted by, filling her with new joy
with each gentle brush of silver. Then, as
suddenly as it had begun, it was gone. The
old woman’s singing stopped, and when
Silver looked at her, she saw exhaustion in
the weathered face.
“I can’t hold it
long, at my age,” the
lady apologized sadly. “But you are young,
and strong. You can make the whole town hear,
and feel like you just felt, Silver. You can
help the love resurface in your parent’s
hearts.”
“Who are you?” Silver whispered, staring
at the woman in awe.
“Just an old lady, little one. Just as you are
only a girl. But we all have gifts, and the
two of us were given a gift that can bring
back joy to a world that knows more pain than
it can handle. Will you help?”
“I’ll… I’ll
try,” Silver
replied, her voice trembling. She could hardly
believe she was doing this. It seemed so impossible,
so unreal. But the shining lines of the woman’s
song were still fresh in her mind, and she
couldn’t convince herself that it hadn’t
happened.
“Then come with me.” The lady began to
walk, and Silver followed silently, with a
feeling of amazement and disbelief at what
was happening. They walked briskly, eventually
coming to a stop in front of a fairly large
building. Silver had been told that it was
the tallest in town, although she wasn’t
sure what purpose it served. They entered the
building, the doors opening to the woman despite
their locks, and took the stairs up, coming,
after a while, to the top and the door to the
roof. The woman thrust the door open and strode,
onto the rooftop. Silver followed close behind.
“It’s almost sunrise,
Silver. Dawn is the most powerful time for
the Silversong.
Sing it as the tip of the sun first shows itself
above the horizon, do not stop until it is
fully risen, and everyone in town will hear
it, I promise you.” The woman’s
whole body was suffused with anticipation,
she was practically hopping with glee.
“Sunrise? But, it’s only been an hour
or so since I left home, and it was only like,
ten then,” Silver informed the old lady,
confused.
“Oh, sorry dear. I forgot
to say,” the
old woman said, blushing. “When you’re
lost in the Song, time passes strangely. I
sang to you for far longer than you think.” Silver
nodded, accepting the explanation without question.
“How do I sing it, ma’am?” Silver
asked. “I don’t know if I can make
music as beautiful as you did, back there.”
“You have heard it, you’ll
know when the time comes,” was the reply.
Silver shrugged, hoping the woman was right.
She walked to the
center of the roof and stood facing east, waiting.
She didn’t have to wait long.
As the sun
first appeared on the horizon, something
rushed through Silver, a tingly feeling, like
champagne bubbles in her veins. She felt
herself
being filled with a feeling of such ecstasy,
such perfect happiness, that she had just
had to let it out. Her head tilted back a bit,
her mouth opened, and the music sprang forth,
strong, sweet notes, filling the air around
her with joy, forming liquid silver threads.
And throughout the town, people heard.
At the
first hint of the Song, a man hidden in the
shadows of an alley faltered and let
the woman he had been about to jump walk on
by, oblivious to her near plight. As it strengthened,
a homeless woman sleeping on a bench in the
park awoke, and watched in confusion as two
policemen who normally patrolled the park for
people sleeping there passed her by with a
smile and a wave. A man in his car stopped
to let an old woman make her way across the
crosswalk that he had been planning to take
without stopping. The color returned to the
cheeks of a woman on her death bed in the town
hospital, and her family wept with joy and
hugged her tight as they all absorbed the wonderful
sound that filled the room with new hope. All
around the small town, people stopped what
they were doing in the streets, ran to the
windows at home, stopped their cars on the
road. And they all looked up at the light rising
in the east, and the sun seemed more beautiful
that any of them had ever seen.
Silver saw all
these events take place, her vision running
along the gleaming silver cords
that were the notes of the Silversong, that
stretched through the town and brought the
Song to everyone, and her voice grew prouder,
stronger. And as the sun fully burst above
the horizon, and her voice reached a glorious
crescendo, she saw her own house, her parents
snuggling close together before the window,
staring at the radiant glow of the morning
sun and hearing the sound of the love they
had nearly forgotten. Then, the last, gentle
note moved past Silver’s lips, and the
Silversong was over. No, not truly over, she
realized. It was the love and joy that was
hidden in everything, and would never truly
be over, just hidden by pain until Silver revealed
it again with her voice.
When Silver turned
back, she was looking at an empty rooftop.
The old lady was gone. She
had done what she needed to do, Silver supposed.
Smiling to herself, Silver walked through the
door and made her way out of the building.
She
could still see the echoes of the Silversong
as she walked home. Townsfolk shouted greetings
to each other happily, smiling at everyone
they saw. And as she walked into her house,
her parents embraced her, not asking where
she had been, merely happy to see their daughter,
and Silver felt truly content. She knew what
she would do, now. Every morning, before the
sunrise, Silver would go back to that building.
And she would sing the Silversong as the sun
rose, and bring joy to the people.
In at least
one town, the Silversong would ensure that
love was never again forgotten
in pain.
Copyright
(c) 2004 for the author, all rights
reserved.
Author Ben Dobson lives with
his parents, two brothers, a dog and a cat.
He is a Grade 12 student and
hopes to attend the University of Victoria’s
Bachelor of Arts program. “Writing is
a passion for me,” said Dobson, “and
I have begun work on two fantasy novels. My
dream is to become a professional writer.“
