SOUNDS OF SILENCE by Sean Hart 2009©

Times Square, the city that never sleeps. People running about to stores all around the premises as lights shine all around near midnight. A child was groveling to her mother to go to the “American Girl” department store to waste hundreds of dollars on a single doll. Flashes from cameras were blinding smiling people everywhere, bringing life to area while the largest screen in the city was flashing news and advertisements. Below that, the message board was slowly scrolling more information, only to vanish and show the local weather in unison to the massive screen. A soft sigh pierced the moist and dank night air as cries of joy slowly dissipated into the chaos of nothing. It was gone. No… not gone. It was never there. No stores or camera clicks. No children screaming and pleading. No ads or weather reports. Just silence. Silence and a lone figure holding a photo of his first trip to the big apple.The figure sat down on a rundown car. Examining the picture closely, he noticed his best friend was busy stuffing his face with hot dogs loaded with relish in the background. It wasn’t an eating contest, just sheer joy of good food entering the mouth. A soft and hoarse chuckle sounded out. Then the sound of a throat being cleared, followed by another sigh. Looking up, the figure wanted to forget this was reality. A dark, lifeless reality. Papers and useless dross littered the concrete, and many windows were broken. As he looked about, the screen had been cracked from the top to the bottom, and a pigeon that had landed on its massive frame had managed to loosen it enough to fall. A loud crash sounded. Debris flew everywhere as the sound echoed around the entire city. A barking started and a single car alarm sounded off from the other end of the metropolis from the shock wave. The figure wasn’t surprised. He looked at the destruction, shrugged, and decided to explore the surrounding area. A single store still had electricity, and to the figure’s relief, that was the grocery store. That meant fresh food. He stood up and began to walk towards his destination: nutrition.The figure was a boy no older than 17, walking with a slight limp in his left leg. This boy was wearing a blue employee’s shirt with the name ripped off. He had to sew a patch of a red shirt he found laying around. Jeans weren’t his style, but he wore them anyway, just to keep the cold autumn night air away. With straight brown hair, he wore glasses with one of the sides cracked; squinting to see what was going on around him, if anything. The glasses weren’t the right lens types, but he dealt with them. Pale white skin almost showed no signs of life in his body at all, but the truly strange feature was on his back. A massive pair of wings jetted outward from his back, spread out in a black shade from the rising sun. It burnt his eyes badly with these glasses, and his wings were the perfect things to keep the light away. Finally reaching the grocery store, he made his way in and turned off the lights to ease his eyes a bit. Smiling, he looked around at the best food in town, and his makeshift room in the smaller corner of the store: customer services. With it having a counter, electrical sockets, and plenty of floor space, he had made cozy little living arrangements around the area. A chuckle and he noticed his best friend was busy sleeping on a mattress he placed on the floor beside a dimly lit lamp. This little creature wasn’t like any others. He liked to call it an imp. It was a small, black ball of short fur, with bat-like wings curled around it as it slept, purring softly like a kitten, mouth and eyes closed. The boy walked over to it slowly, tapping it on the head as he reached it, smiling widely. The imp awoke lazily, looking around, then up at the boy. Its eyes opened widely, shining blood red, and it opened its mouth, chirping out a strange sound. “Nya!” Came out, almost like a cat’s meow. The boy extended his hand, and it hopped up onto the boy’s shoulder, and began to rub against his cheek in a friendly and inviting manner, as if to say, “Welcome home!” The boy took it this way, and scratched the center of imp’s head, getting a loud purr of satisfaction back. Another chuckle, and a sentence. “How was your day, Demon?” the boy asked softly. His voice sounded soothing, yet commanding. His accent was unique: British mixed with slight Australian. He was proud of it. Demon the imp answered back. “Great!” Demon sang out in a childish voice, like a small girl’s voice mixed with a slight hint of a cat’s voice. It was also very unique. “Well aren’t we happy! Why don’t we get some food?” the boy smiled. Standing up, Demon still on his shoulder, he made his way past the counter and into the aisles, passing by a multitude of food products. After finding the right ingredients for his not-so-famous spaghetti, he walked back to the “room” and turned on a stove he had lugged inside. Smiling slightly, the cooking began.