Silence. Once I craved it, breathed caesuras, rare moments when cacophonic demands paused.

My days were filled with “Mother please… “, “I don’t want…” or “Later mom…”. .

Now I polish memories. I cherish absent screams, eyes a-rolling and giggled mockery. In my mind their noise have turned to symphonies.

Every time the telephone rings I hope that I can reconnect with past.
But it’s another insurance salesman.

“Can you insure against heartbreaks? Can you turn sentences unsaid?”

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to see you anymore”
I had screamed. Wish came true.

I learned the difference between solitude and loneliness.

© Jan W. Fields

© Jan W. Fields

When I see the polished spinet I see unplayed music. Memories, and even loss. So I went quite a melancholic way this week. How can I ever learn to write happy? I’m a cheerful person really.

Rochelle issue a new picture every week on Wednesday for Friday Fictioneers a blogging community writing fiction to the same picture. It can attract up to 100 bloggers every week. I will try to join the Concrit subgroup this week and will try to deliver some feedback and I’m accepting constructive feedback as well.

For those who is interested in participating in another wordlimit challenge we have just started the Quadrille at dVerse. Check it out.

January 20, 2015

90 responses to “Silence

  1. Remnants of the past do that to me. I’m older so although I don’t remember the spinet, I went to a similar place. There’s room for this, maybe even a need to sit with our sadness through a writer’s words. You are an inspiration to this beginner.

  2. memories are elusive, mostly. and the past can be a sad place to hibernate or ruminate… i enjoyed this piece. your loneliness and pain was near tangible. great writing x

  3. Dear Björn,

    As the mother of three sons, there were times I wanted to run and hide to get away from the chaos and the noise. Now the quiet is sometimes deafening. Sensitive and poignant, your piece is well done.



    • Thank you.. I have no children of my own, and I grew up in a not so boisterous atmosphere… yet you can always feel that difference… the crave for silence and then it shifts to crave for noise… I have always held in belief is never lukewarm but warm and cold at the same time…

  4. Björn: I am fortunate that my boys (now grown and fathers themselves) never said those things to me. Equally, I never found reason to say the same to them. I was taught, and taught them, to use words carefully. Having said all that, your poem touched deeply as I illustrates how words can be destructive.

    [To Carol: A spinet is a normal piano with a shorter sounding-board, often found in smaller rooms or flats – just as an upright piano has a grand piano sounding board placed ‘upright’ so that it takes up less space]


  5. I love this, to the moon and back: “breathed caesuras, rare moments when cacophonic demands paused”

    I don’t know how much of this is fiction and how much is true, but it makes me think of how you’ve lost your mom in a lot of ways because of the dementia. So even a familiar scream might be nice to hear at this point.

  6. So many “etudes” in this piece…..polishing memories. Ah we do this when our children are gone. Something reminds us…a sound, a smell, a food. And today, the phone — ah we wish for the phone with the voice rather than that words with the thumbs!
    So very sad the words screamed. So very hard to take back words that are said in passion. Count to 10 a wise admonition.
    Very very well done!

  7. This is painful to read, Bjorn. I really do like it when you write a poem of life. Hard to realize that what one wished for in a fit of anger has come true now….and you wish it hadn’t….and you can’t take back the words. Really, Bjorn, this is one of your strongest poems….at least as far as my preferences go. Smiles.

  8. What a sad tale -beautifully and poetically told too. Now if this is what you write when you are a cheerful …can’t imagine what will come out when you are sad 🙂

  9. I think it has all been said already, Bjorn.
    You have deeply touched almost every reader.
    In my view this is as good as anything you have written.
    Which makes it very very good.

    • Thank you.. I have noted that many people are confused if it’s poetry or prose… but I wrote it as prose… I should refrain from writing business letters. Reminds me of Florentino Ariza from Love in the time of the cholera, who could never ever write a business letter, and the first time he actually managed to write a business proposal it was a love letter. hmm

      • I seem to create the same confusion, Bjorn, I think because I structure my tales in short sentences, each on a new line. With you I suspect it is more the cadence of your writing, and the imagery you create.
        Take it as a compliment, my friend, I am pretty sure it is meant that way.

  10. A wonderful piece of writing Björn. So many tremendous sentences and great imagery in just 100 words. The whole piece encompasses so well the difference between solitude and loneliness. I often crave solitude but I fear loneliness.
    Thanks for a great read.

  11. I just loved the whole bit about the memories being symphonies and turned all depressed when I learned about the loneliness behind it. How tragic. I agree with Perry. I think this is one of your best, although that would hard to choose among all your stories. You have so many great ones. This is one of those!

  12. Wonderful. Once again I can only echo what others have said. This is so full of true, great lines. It feels authentic, almost everyone knows about this feeling in some way or another.

  13. Believe it or not, I used to write melancholy poetry.

    I also remember looking at the caller ID and saying, “Damn, it’s Mom again. I wonder what SHE wants?”
    Today, I’d love to hear the sound of her voice.

  14. I would just be redundant in speaking my mind here. It has all been said. I cannot believe English is not your first language! This is simply beautiful in it’s melodic, tragic way. One day it will be my turn (hopefully with a more positive outcome!)

  15. Many people suffer guilt after the death of a loved one. There’s a feeling the one left behind didn’t do enough. Well done in describing the feeling, Bjorn. — Suzanne

  16. Sad, haunting piece, there but for the grace of God springs to mind.. all those times as a mother when I longed for some peace and quiet, a harsh word spoken in anger can change many lives. Well done Bjorn.

  17. Such a sad story, and so full of regret! Yes, it’s so important to choose one’s words carefully, and to listen to one’s young! (My daughter sings all the time, and I love listening to her, but sometimes, when she sings the same song too often, I say, “Sweetie, could you PLEASE sing something else?” and she responds with a good grace.)
    Your story illustrates the idea of listening movingly!

  18. Your poetic background is shining through on this one…breathing caesuras, polishing memories…gorgeous and depressing in one hundred words.
    Well done

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