Let me tell you a story.
There was once a kingdom of mutes. If you ever visited there, all you could hear was the scream of silence. No songs to be heard. No words to be said. No one ever made a sound there. And no one ever dared to imagine the possibility of the existence of any kind of tune existing. People went to get groceries without making a sound; they ate without letting out a tune. They did not talk — ever. Even when they slept their breathing had no sound as if they were gone forever when they slept.
It was a kingdom of silence.
But there was something unique about that place. There, the silence screamed louder than anything. So loud that ignoring it was not a possibility for anyone.
But that scream existed only inside of them. It was hidden behind their shut face.
But everyone knew what that scream was, and how it cried inside of them. The sad thing was that no one had any courage to claim the existence of that everlasting scary tune. They lived their life questioning if they were crazy for hearing that sound. The irony of inside scream is that you never hear a single tune outside of your own territory.
So, they buried the ones who mentioned the possibility of melody because they were scared. They buried them under the ground so that those who mentioned melody would be kept in silence by the quietness of the soil under the ground.
The last one who was buried, however, she invented letters and ink from the dirt. She grasped soil and carved. She let the silence be silence by describing the melody through something that is silent; writing. That is how the writing was invented, the old man sitting near the bonfire continued his tale. He shifted his eyes to the burning bonfire as if he was remembering that time.
People invented writing so that they could describe the scream inside of them by not disturbing the silence, he said. Then, why are you letting out a tune, talking and disturbing my silence I asked, changing my position, getting closer to the burning fire.
He replied, “How are you so sure I am breaking the silence, after all, I only exist inside of you”, he said.
That still means you disturb the silence inside of me, I replied.
He did not reply, but got up and left. I will be back, he said. And I sat there, looking as he left, wondering “When will you be back?”.