People are Loud

People are loud. The city is loud. My brother’s house in the country is loud. The ocean is loud. Airplanes are loud. Helicopters are louder. The forest is loud. Sitting ten feet underwater in a swimming pool at a Ramada Inn in Phoenix is loud (you can hear your frantic pulse). I hate loud.

I wish I was deaf. But maybe not. Because, I like the sound of scissors cutting construction paper. The sound of boots on gravel, or boots on pavement. The sound of running water. The sound of the humming refrigerator I heard as a child, laying in bed with growing pains prodding in my legs like hot electricity. The sound of people laughing two rooms down. The sound of a bass amp beating music three blocks away. The sound of a computer keyboard being used in a public library. The sound of thunder. The sounds of rain tik-pik-tak-paking on the roof of your carport while you kiss that girl you haven’t kissed before. The sound of someone writing with an actual wooden pencil, or the sound of a rushed, practiced swoosh of a signature being written with a blue ballpoint pen. The sound of someone pulling on a seatbelt. The sound of a semi-truck downshifting a mile away. The sound of a vibrating phone sitting on my bed.

I like those sounds. But I hate loud. If I wish I could be deaf sometimes… I think I would be happy. If only.

 

I found something today. I found it on the Internet (Oh, the Internet). It’s a pair of headphones for people like me. People who hate loud. They don’t have a cord. They have a button on one side and a volume dial on the other. They play nothing. It sounds stupid. It sounds like a scam. And those are two sounds I don’t like.

I looked at the headphones again. $89.95. Shipping included. I’m going to buy them, but I’m not going to tell anyone. Because it’s a waste of money, a waste of time and a waste of hope. Maybe. 3-week delivery. They are from a country I have never heard of. They are cherry red.

They came in today. I don’t want to open them. The packaging they are in makes a lot of noise when you open it. I will make some coffee with my percolator and enjoy that sound. Then I will put in the orange earplugs with the yellow string. Then I will open the package.

They don’t work! They don’t work! They don’t work! They don’t work! Wait. They need batteries. Little batteries, like for a wristwatch. The batteries are so hard to put in. I keep dropping them. But they sound like a dime when you drop it on the floor. I like that sound.

Ok. I put them on. Things seem a little quieter. Maybe the headphones are just muffling noise. I turn the volume dial. Things get quieter. I turn it more. Blessed silence. Blessed, revered, holy, perfect, untainted, clean, motionless silence. No anything, not even a breath, not even my pulse. Ecstasy.

I have had the headphones on since I got them out of the package. I threw out the package as soon as I could. I had to spin the volume dial all the way when I went outside. A truck drove by and I could hear it rumbling and tumbling and revving. The volume is up all the way. Now even the trucks are on mute.

Five weeks of silence. The headphones are comfortable enough to leave on when I sleep. My job with the online tech support agency  doesn’t require me to speak with anyone. But I have started to miss my favorite sounds. I miss the boiling water in my copper kettle and the water filter in my fish tank. I am going to take the headphones off just for a little while.

 

 

It took me a second to realize it when I took them off. I felt something was wrong. I felt like something was missing. I felt like you do when you are with a group of friends and realize one of you is missing but you don’t know whom. Then you figure it out. I couldn’t hear. No copper kettle, no fish tank. No traffic outside. No thunder from the inky clouds gathering like foggy sheep. No anything.

I pulled the package from the trash. I pulled the manual from the package. I turned to page 6. I moved my finger down the page, heart pounding silently in my hollow chest.

 

Warning: Extended use at a high volume may be hazardous to your hearing.

 

            I hate quiet. The city is quiet. The country, the planes, the helicopters, even sitting underwater anywhere (I can’t even hear my own pulse). It doesn’t matter, I feel like I’m underwater all the time. I hate quiet. Sometimes I wish I could hear. But maybe not. Because I know what wishes like that can do to you. I don’t like the sound of wishes. And I don’t like how they can quietly come true.

Reviews

[Cylance]

Thank you for the critique, which I believe to be the best and most useful I've ever received. Very appreciated.

I really like this short story. I admit, at first it bore me with the repetition. Most attentions spans would wane after the first paragraph. However, by the end I had goosebumps on my arms and was pretty much speechless with the tragedy.
The way you wrapped up the story was exquisite. The repetition definitely gave the ending its force, but if you made a change I would suggest cutting out some of it.

Fabulous.