Chương 378: 9.i

That was the day the streets fell quiet. Footsteps still slapped on the old cobbles and carts rolled and rattled. But all of them came muffled, like water in your ears. But that you couldn't ever clear no matter how much you shook. Merchants still tried to yell and draw the eye to their wares but that only lasted a few hours, the strain of it, the way the air itself sank down upon us. Children tried to shriek at play, babies still would cry for their mothers and nurse maids.

But soon the smothering quiet drowned them out as well. I remember it, that day all fell quiet. That day the city lost its voice. Today you would think it had always been like this, that it somehow always had cats which wailed mutely to the moon. Some even take pride in the way that we can speak softer, step more silently than foreigners. But the youth don't know what they have lost. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

The city used to sing, there used to be music to its streets and everything in it. Our merchants and singers and festivals were full of songs. But we haven't had a festival with music in all the decades since that day. Now all our holy days are silent. A man doesn't dare to speak over a whisper now, not even on the day of his wedding. Part of our home died that day, I know it.

The night after the silence fell I remember it rained, but where the droplets used to soothe me to sleep, the way they rattled and struck upon the clay roof of my family's apartment? I could not find rest that night or any time it rained since. Silent rain is a curse, I drink til I forget the sound those nights. It's just not right! For a city to be as quiet as we have become! -Interview with Elder Eyad of the Ghergeintat southquarter's wharf.