THE ALLEYNIAN 708 | OUT OF THE ORDINARY
THE ALLEYNIAN 708 | OUT OF THE ORDINARY
H eavy. Dulling. A weight, dragging you down. A veil, cloaking, hiding something: something lost; something found; something never known. The silence knows all. Bitter ice smirks back at you: your face mirrored in blue; your face welling up in hopelessness; your face, watching you fall. For you know nothing.
RohanKaloo Year9 Interview CREATIVE WRITING
The silence watches; the silence knows.
The silence says nothing.
And who are you to question it? Let yourself fall; let yourself be still; let yourself lose. How would you ever win? How would you climb the insurmountable? How would you conquer yourself?
The silence pulls your strings; the silence orchestrates your failure.
The silence says nothing.
You relax. You let the weight drop you. You let the secrets pass you; you let the opportunities slide by. The silence holds you in the palm of an unseen hand. How did you ever hope to win?
For the silence knows all.
‘Excuse me, sir, but if you don’t intend to answer any of our questions, then there is no point in your being here. The exit is that way.’ The silence is sharp; the silence is blunt; the silence … isn’t silent? The silence clears: you see; you feel; you hear; you have escaped. The clench of your fingers on your chair; the red of your cheeks – truly, there is no better feeling than freedom. This is your opportunity: win them over, show them brilliance, claim your prize … You look up to three frustrated faces and a clearly pointing finger. You rise from your seat and, through the glass of the door, you are faced with the view of a weeping army of clouds. Tears swamp the pavement.
As you walk home, the silence cloaks you.
Image: William Brooke (Year 11)
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