(In six words)
(In six words)
There are multiple ways of interacting with silence: purposefully leaving something unsaid, breaking the silence around a topic, or, quite simply, getting tongue-tied. For this week’s challenge, we want you to take the theme of silence and explore it in your own way.
The studio is empty, but then it is not: you are everywhere, in the books on the shelves, the records on the low table, near the sofa. You are on the keys of this keyboard, in the scent of you in the bathroom, in our bed, on my clothes. On my lips.
You are not far, you are here. Standing on the balcony, breathing in the icy air of Kreuzberg, there is no sound: snow covers the pavement, the streets. The city is silent, the pregnant pre-dawn silence, before the birds recognise the new day.
I come in, shut the door. I sense the little wave which travels from there, the corner of the desk where our secret lies, murmuring sweet and terrible truths: loving a ghost has its price, and being loved by her – by you – a higher price still.
How I love this city. How I love our silent place, full of you, full of us, overflowing with pleasures that have no names. And memories. I take your wooden face in my hands, its surface feels warm, like a skin. Those deep eyes seize me, as if to confirm your presence, but I know. I know it is your way of reassuring me, of telling me that I have already payed the price, of your love.
This is the start of a new day. Surrounded by you, I take the steps for what must follow: getting showered, getting dressed, making coffee, starting work. All the time, your eyes follow me, and so comes the inspiration: how not to tell the story, of a writer in love with his muse?
The street is deserted: you said you would be here, in front of the old gate, but there’s no one.
Blind windows look down at me in the deepening obscurity of the dying day: I recall the laughter, the chatter of young voices after school, I recall your half open lips, ready for the kiss, the bubble of time surrounding us.
It was then, now is darkness, and I know time lost is gone: those young voices muted in the silence of eternity.
Yet I stand still, and hope, memories of you submerging my soul, slowly drowning in the shimmering silhouette that has appeared, just there, at the edge of this tormented mind.
There you are, at last, haunting beauty of my lost love, shrouded in tears, mistress of the night.
In space, with the bodiless android as your sole companion, aboard the immense ship: what are you thinking Doctor Shaw? Do you dream in your sarcophagi? You trust that machine, that evil machine. Yet it killed your friend, infected him with the deadly virus. But now, does it matter? Your aim is the Engineers’ world – or what is left of it. What do you hope to find there? Answers to your questions? A clue as to why they turn against their children, against mankind?
And what if the story was completely different, a fabrication, smoke and mirrors? Why, are you saying, why should it be so? It maybe that their goal was to prevent mankind to awake, to hinder creation – or evolution – depending on your perspective, to eliminate a deadly competitor. The “good” Engineers may have been evil all the time. And those pictures across the ancient world, a trap, a bait to kill us off after all, if ever we survived their poison. Something got at them for sure. And that thing is alive. In fact, for a while, it was alive in your belly, doctor Shaw. Remember?
So, you can’t change your mind now. The android has programmed the flight, your journey. Of course, your grandchild is still there, surely, on that piece of rock, near the dome. The beautiful Alien, who was born from your baby and the monster, the last surviving Engineer. Wait, is it behind you, or with you, there, on that silent ship? And then, you’re no longer alone: that baby is growing near you…