Loving Silence

CHAPTER 1

Silence.

Many people say that when silence is present, it just means that your words are absent. But I completely disagree with that.

For me, silence is the most underrated, intriguing, roaring, and dangerous form of communication, all at once. For when silence is there, you are not quite sure what's really going on inside someone else head. You don't know if they are dancing happily in their own version of cloud 9 with rainbows around them, or they are numbly strolling down a trail towards a cemetery full of corpses of the different version of themselves that they once mourn for.

And that's exactly why I love it.

As an introvert kind of a person, I find it quite fascinating when I don't know what's going on to someone else head. It gives me the thrill to find out what they are thinking, without I, talking to them. Observation, for me, is more powerful rather than striking up an immediate conversation. A lot of people now a days are too shallow to open up themselves to someone they only know in a single day. So, where's the thrill on that? Where's the depth on it?

My thoughts have been interrupted when the conductor of the bus that I'm riding at says that we have arrived at my school. Greenfields High. The historic educational institution in our place that was been built during 1898.

Greenfields High is surrounded by tall, moss green, pine trees that comes in variation, giving it an aesthetic ambiance found in most of the European countries. It's buildings, I can say, are intricately designed by the notable architects during its establishing time, and they pattern it almost similar to Oxford University and Edinburgh University. A lot of people in my age says that if you want to experience some Dark Academe vibes, and you have the brain to pass the entrance exam along with some serious massive money, you can try this prestigious school.

Since it's my first time here after moving in this city last week along with my family, I'm still somewhat unfamiliar with the said school. And since I'm not that well-versed in interacting with other people, I decided to stroll around my campus finding the Registrar on my own. Jokes on me.

After almost 30 minutes of finding where the registrar is, I came by to a shabby, bygone building that has a medieval touch. There's no warning sign though that indicates that I can't proceed going inside, so I decided to wander to clench my wonder.

Upon sauntering each dusty floors, I heard a euphonious music coming from a certain room. Though I'm not quite sure about the specific title of the melancholic piece, I'm pretty sure that it's a Tchaikovsky masterpiece. And it's being played in a violin.

As my curiosity flared up, I decided to remember first the room number, Room 101, and finally muster a courage to take a peek of who is majestically playing a minor piece in an almost dilapidated building.

Upon taking a glance, my eyes have been met by a grimy room with filthy, white, old curtain who's gently dancing with the soft, afternoon, sunrays. And playing a gloomy music to them is a girl whose chestnut brown hair is freely flowing behind her back while her white Victorian vintage floral dress is silently standing still, cascading in her body and making sure it's not distracting her.

But as I was held captivated by the serenading music and the enigmatic girl that I was listening to, I almost lose my breath when the door in the certain room closes and someone at my back holds my shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir. People are not allowed to go in this building anymore." The patrolling security guard told me.

I was so lost with words that the only thing I was able to say is, "Why?"

And the next words of the security guard sent shivers to my spine and left me dumbfounded with my mouth hanged agape. "Because someone died in this building a long time ago, specifically in that room. Room 101."