The Hum of the World
I ventured out, into the yard, to watch the children play, feeding my inner delight for days long gone. My legs are tired and weak or maybe my legs have grown tired of me. All I have left are memories, vessels into the past.
When I’m not reminiscing, I’m teaching. I love to see their bright faces light up after learning something new, that certain click in the mind. Sometimes, I sit and watch them play–giggling, laughing. But there is one boy that sits alone–not one of my students–he goes by the name of Johnny. I always wanted to talk to him but I could not bring myself to do it. Today, I will talk to him. I must.
Johnny sat with his ear to the ground, listening. Listening attentively for something. Striding over to where he sat, I cleared my throat. His small eyes glanced at me, then back to the ground.
“Johnny, may I ask what you are listening to?”
He lifted his head. “The hum.”
“The hum of what?”
“The hum of the world.”
I put my ear to the ground, listening. At first there was nothing but then a sound came to my ears, unlike any I have ever heard before. I imagined a great beast clawing dirt, groping in the darkness. Shuddering, I could not rid myself of the image.
“Johnny, what happens when the hum stops?”
“The end.”
