Down deep within the streets of the sleeping city is where
we live. Beneath the quick paced
movement of the day, with the humans rushing from one of the wide city to the
other. Chattering voices fill the air
and echo down into the tunnels where we slumber. The city lives during the day, with the clanging
trolleys, the braying of the animals and the whining of the machines above our
heads. When we did hear the voices, they
would come in jumbled, we don’t pay those ones any mind. The ones we thrived on, we listened to those
at dusk.
The dark voices, the velvet voices, came down as clear as a
bell on the northern winds. Those voices
we understood well. Those voices spoke
our language. We’ve survived on those
voices for so long, it will be a pity when those voices finally die out.
Lately however, I’ve been hearing a different sound. This voice is lower than the humans, lower
than the ones that live with me. I only
hear it coming in on the dawn, as the sun rises, so does the voice. Almost as
if it was bringing in the dawn with its melodic tone.
After a decade of listening to the song, I decided to follow
its tune. The tunnels were becoming too
crowded, with the dead and living. The
dead began to smell after a while. The
living smelled longer after that. I could survive on the voices of the dying and
the despair that they brought with them, though this tune was burrowing deep
into my bones. At times I tried to not
listen, but it has routed itself into my very being. I ventured out into the stale air on a dark
moon lit night, with nothing but a sliver to guide me between the built streets. My claws crackled on the uneven stone
pavement, how I longed for the soft moss lined tunnel that I had called home
for so long, but I pressed on.
I would only travel at night, following the low tune, so
soft that only our kind could listen. I’d
press on. I passed the city limits
months before, and skirted the new limits.
I had had enough of living in the dark tunnels. I ate as I moved along, following the wolves
and their travels. They feared me during
the day, joined in my loneliness at night. I missed my brethren, but only in a sense of
knowing that there was another like me nearby, not that I truly missed the
others.
A year had passed since I left my home, and I came across a
great ravine. Since it was a night, I no
way of knowing how far across I could stretch.
I perched myself on a side, and waited till morning. I knew I was in a predicament, if a human was
to come across me, but I did not want to take any chances on this dark night. Just before the dawn broke, I could hear the
lonesome song, for that’s what I believed it to be now, began just as the first
rays of the golden, ancient sun came over the edge of the great ravine. It was then that I understood. The voice had not grown stronger or weaker
during my travels. What I had been
following was the voice that knew no other.
It was the song of the sun, the one of our kind that knew no other, and
could love no other, for he was bound to bring light into the world though we
often represent darkness.
I stretched my dusty wings, and changed my path. My goal was no longer to cross the ravine,
but instead to meet the Sun in the sky as he brought life into the world. I tested the blowing wind, and with no regard
for others safety I pushed into the air, on my way to reach the song that I
could complete. Though I may perish
along the way, perhaps I would have a happy ending, unlike many others of my
kind. Whether they had perished by man-made
blade, or by being forgotten by those that we had once feared, I continued with
my journey.
As I left the old earth behind, I believed I could see an
outline within the sun’s rays, and I believed that perhaps he was as lonesome
as I was. These tired bones, could beat
no more, so I rode in on the cosmic rays.
I let the coldness and sharpness of the air take the last breath from my
lungs, and I gave myself one last push of desperation, one more chance to
believe, and his warmth engulfed me. I
was at peace.
