The Symphony Of Silence And Other Stories

Canyons

The unearthy cracks of land, striking against each other. The cut of a river flowing through the cascade of rocks that surrounding it. The sky that cannot seem to describe its own colours. The Grand Canyon stood mighty.

Ella, held her heart in the air, coddled and papered by the wind rushing past her face. The dimness of the early dawn, cracked by the ever growing laughter. Her open window, echoing her words into the open.

The Grand Canyon, held itself high as another fissure cut itself across it. The pain was terrible. But every smile, seemed to shatter it's core of unearthliness. It was worn down by the struggles of survival. But it was a breathtaking mosiac of battles fought and lost.

Ella, on the first day of school, held fast on to her mother's hand, dreesed in uniforms stood at the gate. Ella's hands shook, her fingers wet and clammy.

"See you later, lovely." Her mother retreated. She stood again, gazing at the massive gate, and then she took a step forward.

The Grand Canyon shook, a sliver of fear echoed in its depths. And the mountain began to smile. The pen began to engrave.

'Ella, the carrier of the mountain, the song of darkness, the beauty of the unknown.'

She was lost. Searching for her classroom. Her dungarees and glasses too big for her. Ella was learning. Yet to be learnt.

Even when they pushed her and pulled, when she was a puppet on their strings, she went along with it.

The Grand Canyon was still writing. A mountain with her name. Writing her story. It laughed when she cried. Smiled when was angry. The deviance of the unearthly beauty stood tall, desolate and longing for a companion.

Ella grew up, slowly. Her smile, became downcast. But there were moments of utter certainty that it was all lost, when a ray of shattering sunshine would play across her lips.

The mountains would enrage. It would tear itself apart as the feast of her fears, come to a close. The pain, trebles down its body and it would endure.

Ella played along, the chords of druken laughter. Her life, played the maddening chords of familiarity and unfamiliarity. And Ella, danced to the beat. The count of ten. And then twenty. And then thirty. And soon it was infinity.

The canyon, drew her. The brown mountains spilt apart, her life etched on to them. The were drawing. Like she was painting. The unseeing fanthoms painted her, brush strokes too large to be seen or read.

Infinity came to a close. Ella, stopped counting. The mangled chords she played beat weakly along the monitor. And like a song ending, it went to a close.

The canyon stooped drawing. It drifted apart. Every heartbeat created a fissure. As the mangled chords closed, it broke apart.

Ella belonged to the Grand Canyon. She was the canyon. A network of deceased and the immortal.