the noisy box

A wild looking, barefooted boy is running along a dirt path. He left home in a hurry. He was angry and distracted.   Dodi cut his hair way too short with her dull knife and blood had trickled down over his left ear.
He didn’t care to have his hair messed with. He would fight her next time to leave it long.

He was on a mission. He had seen something curious yesterday, and he was determined to see it again. And maybe this time… touch it.

Around the bend, in a slight clearing stood the remains of a huge crumbling building. He had explored a few buildings like this, since Dodi started letting him roam free. Everything was in decay. The Old Ones called this building ‘Chush’. But when questioned, no one knew what it meant. Why was it so big? What had the Deads done here?

He climbed over the rubble and crept inside. The light of midday filtering through cracks in the lofted ceiling. He stood, hands on hips, on top of the collapsed balcony. Looking up, he could see an array of metal cylinders with gaping holes frowning down at him. Cautiously, he made his way down to the cracked marble floor and up to the front. His footfalls echoing in the large empty space. Holes in the floor on either side of him, where wooden pews once stood, now long gone.. scavenged for firewood ages ago.

There it was. A very large box with two levels of yellow and black flat sticks lined up in obvious patterns. Knobs. Knobs everywhere! And there was a ledge and down below huge sticks in what appeared to be the same patterns as the smaller sticks above. He felt bold today. He would touch it. What could possibly happen?

He climbed up on the bench, his scrawny legs dangling over the edge, calloused toes barely brushing the pedals. Why was he so excited? He reached out his grimy fingers and ran them over the surface of the keyboards, over the knobs, careful not to disturb anything. What was this thing?

He sat quietly contemplating this strange contraption, when he heard a rustle behind him. Startled, he slipped hastily down off the bench, landing on the pedals, causing the instrument to let out a loud, mournful bellow.  Hundreds of frightened birds flew out at him from their cozy perches.

He ran. His heart pounding as he raced home. What was that sound?  Was it hollering at me for hurting it? He didn’t tell Dodi why he was so pale and breathless when he rushed into the hut. He didn't sleep well that night. 

He would go back.

*****
He awoke with that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Gnawing, searing, hunger. He knew better than to wake his sister. She got cross when hungry. She is cross all the time.

He wasn’t really concerned with Dodi’s hunger, or his own, for that matter. The noisy box was on his mind. He weaved his way down to the stream, cloth in hand, and scrubbed his grubby hands. He was intent on touching the box again. It just didn’t seem right to touch it with unclean hands.

He stood quietly solemn at the entrance hole to the Chush. Taking a tentative step forward, ignoring the decaying rubble at his feet, he noted that the box seemed to glow as early morning streams of sunlight danced on its console. He carefully found his way onto the bench, and softly stroked the rotting wood. He cooed soothingly, ‘I won’t hurt.’

He wiggled one chipped yellowish key, curiously… ready to be bellowed at again. Nothing.

He took a deep breath, and pressed the key down.  What quickly followed, was a hiss and a high-pitched squeal. He jumped only a bit this time, more like a flinch, and then... he sank all ten of his ruddy fingers down upon the keys. The instrument gave a clamorous wail in protest, but he held fast.  Filling the long silent room with reverberating sound.  He spent all day gently coaxing odd sounds from the box.   Completely entranced.

This time, the birds stayed to listen.
And he had forgotten his hunger.

*****

He floated home as the last rays of light disappeared behind the overgrown thicket surrounding the small gathering of huts. He had never heard such sounds before! What was this called? What was this… feeling?

‘Where have you been…. no fish?’ his irritable sister demanded. He hung his head, having forgotten to bring home fish from the stream, they would eat only bread tonight.

‘What is wrong with you, Remi?’

‘I found something’

‘Well, tomorrow, you find some fish or some kind of meat, or we will starve.’

..more coming..