A Sound Story

Somehow, sweetest, it feels sad to leave your sad face behind. It is sadder that some years later, you will jump in joy at the advent of a non-guardianed time of being. As bells go off in Momie's Big School, Momie counts the time to when it would turn around to you. How long has it been that you have told me a story? How long has it been since I have? The day is different, with a lilting breeze entering through the heritage windows of this heritage institution. The approaching-holiday feeling refuses to diffuse. The day asks for a story. One for us:

Sound was growing silent with the day. His parents were concerned.He refused to allow anyone around him, but Story. And Story, diligent and sincere that she was, would meticulously appear in front of him regularly for the only exchanges he had. In those instances, one could sometimes hear Sound say aloud, 'Wow!', or a more resigned 'Oh!', or rarely, the devastated 'Why?' With such gratifying responses, Story, on the other hand ripened wilder, deeper and more passionate than ever. She needed Sound's ear as much as he needed Story's shoulder.

In this way, erasing the world around, they sketched their own lines of identity. Then on one such slightly drizzly, slightly murky afternoon, Story, as she opened her mouth to tell him more of Episodes and Chapters -- they were introduced last week in Story's dazzling Who Murdered the Detective? -- found to her utter disbelief a vacuum to have cloaked her. She fell short of words and became a victim of silence. Much that she tried, and Sound too, to bring back Episodes and Chapters, they were no where near to be seen. 

At this point, it began raining heavily, as if the heavens were moved to tears too. On such an occasion Sound grew furious at the fate of Story and at his own incapability to help her. He growled out aloud. You know the name of course, of what followed? Thunder, of course! And with each Thunder, Lightning was released. He realized, as did Story, he could now whip up words as well. In joy as in relief, he embraced Story.

That was when she began speaking too! His touch emanated a kind of compulsion which made this possible. Together, they thus make A Sound Story, story after story, and quite sound too!

PS: In Who Murdered the Detective? Lightning was later revealed to have hit upon the Detective. Their next edition is being called Who Stole my Thunder?

Tonight when you curl up to me, or me into you, when Thunder and Lightning are playing in the Sky, we will have secretly known it was nothing but a celebration of solving a mystery, won't we? If we are still scared, we will whisper into each others' ears A Sound Story. At least Sound and Story breathe fearless.