This Story Was Written Off The Top Of My Head

The Story That Was Never Written

A long time ago, before humans had written words there existed a village with no name. The people lived without names or words so communication as we know it was useless. They used other methods to pass on messages to one another, often it was through grunts, dances, eye movements, and hand signals, but occasionally they had to send messages far away. This is where things got really interesting, one of the villagers would sit on top of the nearest, highest hill and await orders from the town below. When it was time, they would get the signal from below telling them which message to pass along. Sometimes the signal would be a fire, or smoke signals, sometimes a bell or a shout, they even had different animals and horns they could use depending on how complicated the message. When the nameless tribesperson got the message from below they would translate it into a long distance format and blow a large horn towards the village or tribe they needed to speak to. On top of all the largest hills lived the messengers and when a message was being broadcast they would rush to attention and memorize the series of sounds to be repeated again towards the destination of the communication. Regardless of all this, it worked and it worked well. There was no need for words or writing, no need for internet or telephones. The surrounding nameless towns and villages all slowly adopted this efficent method of transmitting information. Soon, messages were getting transfered across entire mountain ranges, and oceans, across vast plains and deserts until it seemed almost everyone alive on the planet was able to communicate with anyone they wished across the planet, no matter how far they traveled. They could order food or animals, deliver warnings or party invites, they could organize which crops they should grow and which items should be bought or sold. Eventually the hills were in a permanent state of message transmission, sending and receiving messages 24 hours a day. The world was speaking and it was loud. Very loud. It got to the point where nothing could be done with all the incessant noise, the kids couldn't sleep, the people couldn't meditate, they could barely even relax with all the horns and sounds constantly coming from the hills.
Then one day, a young boy messenger changed it all. He sat on top of his hill eagerly memorizing the messages coming in and out but suddenly had an idea, he thought to himself, without words, and concluded enough was enough. He was sick of the village's kids being cranky from not getting enough sleep, he was sick of hearing the towns people complain, and although the world was more connected than ever before he decided it should end and people should go back to how it was before. He stopped playing his horn and safely climbed down the hill. The people of the village all stopped and stared, instantly knowing what was happening. In a message more primitive than sound itself, they knew it was over. They shouted and danced happily to show the boy they supported him and before they could finish they heard something they haven't heard in a long time. It was the sound of silence as each horn further and further away stopped sending messages and shouts of laughter and happiness echoed in the wind.
The whole planet went quiet that night, even the animals. The only sound people could hear was the crashing of the waves if they were near the sea, or the trickling of a river, the sound of the wind, or of a tree falling, all these sounds and more were appreciated by the people once more and declared sacred.
A new form of communication was decided on, and this time they would take the messages in person to the desired location creating many jobs, and coincidently, a written and spoken language which they could now use to communicate softly, so that they would still be able to enjoy their sacred sounds.