The Story of Silence (Book 3)

Chapter 18

The snow fell gracefully down on to the roofs of the town of Speranza, covering everything in a fine white blanket. The frosted glass clock on the Town hall chimed dully seven times and stopped, and then silence returned as quietly as the snow fell.

With the evening arrived and the snow falling, all citizens of the town were inside out of the cold, warming themselves by the fire while their dinner was being prepared. This was the case of a family living in the rented upstairs floor of a house stationed close to the outskirts of the town.

The upstairs floor was well furnished; the pictures that hung on the walls were unique and fitted well into their surroundings. In the middle of the designated lounge there was a coffee table laden with pieces of paper on which a child drew with coloured crayons. Around the child, sitting on the soft grey carpet, stood two lounge chairs which offered as a boundary to the boy so that he could not leave. The reason for this being there were guests, and having a four year old running about the place when you're trying to have a serious conversation, doesn't help.

The room next to the lounge was the designated kitchen/dining room, with a small black top stove in the corner to cook on and a bench with which to prepare the food. It was in this kitchen that that the woman of the house stood over a pot of something that bubbled gently, releasing an appetizing aroma. She listened cautiously to the conversation coming from her husband at the dining table and the two other men seated, she kept her eyes fixed on the bubbling pot as if she didn't dare show that she was listening in.

The men around the table wore dark, striped suits, and each held a red carnation in his button hole. They had the slicked dark hair of businessmen, but the woman knew that they weren't the usual sort of businessmen.

Her husband in his chair looked slightly out of place with the stern, pale skinned, clean faced men in their dark suits. He wore a white shirt with his top shirt button undone, and his brown jacket lay folded over the back of his chair. His eyes were dark and impenetrable, and his dark skin, the only thing covering his lack of sleep.

In the middle of their table an unmarked bottle sat half empty, three glasses stood around it. Occasionally one of the men would reach out, pour himself a drink, and shoot it back; all the while they talked in whispers.

The woman could see reflected in the mirror to the left over the stove her husband's gun on table, his shoulder holster empty. She watched him take another shot of drink and replace his gun. Casting her eyes down she focused on the pot as he rose, shaking slightly, and pulled on his coat. The two men rose as well, one sucking the last draws of his cigarette and exhaling the smoke through his nose, which then rose and joined the rest gathered from the evening.

As the two men made their way to the door, her husband walked over and whispered quietly into her ear that everything would be all right. She smiled faintly at him and he planted a kiss on her cheek before following the other men out of the room.

A little girl about nine years old, her hair matching her father's and brother's tied in ponytails, exited the bedroom connecting to the lounge.

'Mama?' she spoke timidly as she entered the kitchen.

Her mother turned from the stove and sank down to her knees so that she was closer to the little girl's height.

'It's okay,' she whispered as she hugged her daughter tightly. 'Come on, let's join your brother,' she released the girl and rose to her feet. Taking her daughter's hand in hers she led her back into the lounge where they stepped over the boundary, and sitting down on one of the couches they watched the boy draw his pictures.