Summary: Must silence always equal regret, or something else?
Date Of Completion: January 26, 2007
Date Of Posting: January 26, 2007
Word Count: 267
It hung heavily in the Great Manor, the house weighted down with centuries of quiet.
Silence draped over the Grand Foyer, the chandelier’s crystals clinking as a plane flew
far, far overhead, only vibrations reaching Earth.
Through the library, the study, the dining room, and the ballroom, quiet steeped as if
in a cup of Alfred’s favorite Earl Grey tea.
In the kitchen, there was only the occasional click of the stove’s timer as blueberry
muffins baked in the oven.
Up in the bedrooms, silk was silent. In one of the bathrooms, the occasional
drip-drip-drip of a shower head was complemented by the whisper of a breeze-blown
curtain at the bedroom window. The silent rush of air slipped down through the hallway,
down the polished mahogany stairs, passing through the grandfather clock, which ticked
precisely, down, down, into the ‘Cave. Batwings rustled and moisture dripped, computers
Water lapped in the pool up on the grounds, the errant breeze blowing through the trees,
their sighs echoing sadness from human hearts. A robin chirped in the trees as
windchimes tinkled delicately by the kitchen door.
Footsteps sounded through the house, a measured pace as they trod from room to room,
pace quickening until finally leather glided across grass. A slender figure stood at
the seawall, facing the glittering ocean.
The figure stiffened.
The voice was sad and defeated. Dick turned around, eyes brimming with tears of…anger?
Dick reached out a hand and Bruce took it, his own tears shimmering as he pulled the
younger man into an embrace.
This time, healing.