The Virtue of Silence
“Hi Cheryl, guess what?”
“I’m taking the vow of silence!”
“You’re becoming a nun?”
“No, silly, I’m not going to talk for a day.”
“Wow, that’s one big vow of silence, Ethel. I’m afraid to ask, what prompted this?”
“You remember my interest in meditation?”
“Right, Betty got you onto that. It still bugs me that you won’t tell me your mantra.”
“The Maharishi says ‘to speak your mantra aloud is like pulling a plant from its roots’.”
“A vow of silence is another form of meditation.”
“Well Ethel, it will be a sweet twenty-four hours.
Another 100 Words with the girls. This time for Sunday Writing “It’s all in the title.” by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. They asked for a poem or story using one of the 10 titles they offered. I chose ‘The Virtue of Silence”
Jason rose from the bench, his teaching finished for the day. Bemused, he watches as she packs her sheet music in her bag and retrieves her cellphone; she is his least favorite pupil. Cara’s not a bad player, she works hard, and she’s better than most of his other students. It is the stench of patchouli oil that puts her in that category, so he holds his breath as much as he can while he watches her play the piano, giving advice from time to time. “See you next week, Mr. J.” “Next week, Cara, don’t forget to practice.”
The following week something is different. Same flowery sundress, same patchouli oil, same banging the keys, then it hits him. The hourglass has sand in it. “Cara, you have sand!” “I know, Mr. J, do you like it? I’m so glad you noticed.” How could he not, the tiny hourglass on the webbing between her thumb and index finger now contained sand, canary yellow sand to be precise. “Do you love it?” “I do, your hourglass has a purpose now.” “Time marches on, Mr. J.” As she packs her bag, Jason hands her a small gift box. “A little something from us to reward you for the time you have spent practicing and learning the piano. Open it when you get home.”
At her next lesson a delicate floral scent follows Cara to the bench. “Thank you so much, Mr. J, I love my gift. I thought it was time for a change too,” a knowing smile on her face, as she begins to play.
⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️ ⌛️
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie posed a challenge for their “5 by 5” Sunday Writing Prompt. Write a story or poem using one of five words in each of the following categories… a piece of furniture, a scent, a color, a shape, and an item carried in the pocket, wallet, or purse.
Nikki stood looking at the tree stump for a very long time. Finally she turned and walked back to where we were standing, shaking her head.
Nikki sees things other people don’t see. When I asked her what she had seen she said, “I don’t know, but she was pretty.” I’ve learned to leave it at that and not ask questions.
We went and looked at the tree stump, but didn’t see anything. Didn’t hear anything either.
It was getting dark so we found Nikki and left.
Photo Prompt Artwork by Ingrid Endel ~ Thank you to Nekneeraj for the invitation to write.