Quiet

Q is for quiet
When there’s nothing to be said
All voices are silent
In the realm of the dead


If silence is a virtue, I am a nun. I’ve never actually been to a church – I’ve only seen them from the outside. My family visits temples in the area infrequently. Mother typically does this when father’s attitude becomes sour or they have a disagreement. She uses them to center herself and recover her equanimity. She had to learn to do it for my sake. No child should be left without two parents.

I’ve been doing the same with the resting places of the dead. The Prince’s Chapel out in the graveyard south of the Romany camp in what they call the Shadowy Forest is one such place. The interior of Head Vampire’s tomb is another. A common feature in these places is candles which burn with all the longevity of their wards’ slumber. Peace, stillness, silence. They glow without sound and without end.

As a teenager I retreated to the forested areas and riverbanks of state parks when I wanted to be alone. I had always seen graveyards and mausoleums as places and things to be avoided – in my family, children are kept away from the dead or even any mention of them. It is not wise to attract the attention of otherworldly specters lest they spirit away a soul before its time. Now, I seek out their company. I find peace in their presence; they fill me with an emptiness that transcends all things.

Here I rest, for a while.

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