The Noise
I'm hearing a noise. I can't see it. It's hiding and seems to be coming from the other side of the creek. With boots on I slowly wade across. The water makes its light lapping sounds. Reaching the bank, I search for the noise. It must have a face, suntanned and warm, that I should be able to see, to touch. It's very close. Now I can finally see it. I squat down and pick it up. It's in the hollow of my hand. It vibrates and sings. It has a heart, it has wings, it tells me I love you.
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Other stories by Erika Byrne-Ludwig
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The kind of noise we all need.*
Lovely. *
Good piece, Erika. Made me think of William Stafford - if you listen carefully you can hear the first word.
I'm fascinated with the creek dividing the scene and action. The movement that never stops.
"I squat down and pick it up" - "It vibrates and sings."
*
Many thanks everyone for your interesting comments.
Like a dream. Captures that. Very effective.
Thank you, Dianne.
Rich with imagery and tension!