A Utopian World

Where would you go to look for silence?

Phoebe tried to block out the racket going on in the living room, her face an expression of a tormented prisoner. In fact, she thought that was exactly what she was – a prisoner stuck in her own world. She was trapped in a dead-end rut that was her life.

 

Without even having to open her bedroom door, she knew her parents were fighting again, and her mother was flinging drunken accusations across the room. She wondered if her parents would ever live in harmony again, in lieu of snapping each other’s heads off whenever they saw each other.

 

She flopped onto her bed and stared disconsolately at the ceiling studded with glittering constellation stickers. She always believed that the stars were constantly trying to send a message across to the world, and that once one could decipher that message, one would then discover his or her own Utopian world.

 

A deafening crash jolted her. Phoebe shared a brooding look with herself in the mirror and braced herself for the aftermath. Every night, the fighting sessions would end with the offensive crashing of cutlery, more shouting and screaming, the door slamming shut and sometimes, in extreme cases, the patrol police knocking on the front door.

 

Phoebe did not know how it had gotten so bad. Ever since her father went bankrupt by fighting lawsuits after lawsuits, proclaiming embezzlement, a month ago, the entire family had fallen apart. The bankruptcy was the water that rocked the peaceful boat in the river, and toppled all its passengers over.

 

Her mother started turning to the bottle to drown her sorrows in. She would spend nights going out for a lone drink after the fighting. She often downed uncountable bottles of vodka, and end up asleep at the door in the morning. In the day, she would wail bloody murder from extreme hang-overs. It would put her in a perpetual foul mood that chipped in to the high tempers at night.

 

The door slammed shut. “Good riddance!” Phoebe heard her father bellow and knew that her mother had gone out again, no doubt in search of another few barrels of alcohol to abate her anger.

 

Desperate for some peace, she emerged from her room and whisked out of the house before her father could call her back. Does he even bother? she wondered. Not caring where she was running to – just as long as she was away from the battlefield at home – Phoebe followed where her legs took her. Images blurred past her mind in a discordant field of colours. It took a while for Phoebe to realise that it was actually memories that were flashing before her, memories where money was never the issue for conflict and when she was free to dream big.

 

My family’s screwed up and nothing like what it used to be, Phoebe thought, as she finally came to a halt, keeling over in exhaustion. What happened? she wondered. A strong gust of wind was billowing towards her relentlessly, she noticed, and surveying her surroundings, she suddenly noticed the uncanny silence. It was uncanny because she had gotten so used to rackets that she no longer recognised the pure bliss silence could bring about.

 

She gave herself in to the newfound peace swirling around her. Cool wind tickled her eyelids and the smell of the air hung heavy and salty. A bicycle bell rang out in the distance, and she could hear people talking, laughing, a fire crackling. The silence was not perfect enough.

 

Her feet slipped into the icy-cold water, black and murky. She turned and looked at the people who were laughing and chatting around the little fire they had started up. They looked happy, and Phoebe wondered if she could ever be like them.

 

Silence, she cried out in her mind, that’s the only thing I’ll ever ask for. So she let herself get pulled in by the seemingly magical attraction of the water, dark and faceless, but inviting nonetheless. She ducked her head in. It was chilly. Phoebe could not see anything at all, but she heard something that made her heart sing.

 

Silence: it was ringing, almost to a point of deafening. It was not exactly the way she would have loved it – it was absolutely devoid of warmth – but then, what was not? She decided to remain there, hopefully for all eternity. Closing her eyes, Phoebe cracked a tiny smile. The sea was her real home, with its brackish waters and ungrounded depths.

 

She knew she had, at last, found her Utopian World.