The Sound of Nothing

It has been a while since I have given a story. Since I have started documenting my experiences, I have noticed some months that more occurs than in some others. This month, thankfully, was quite silent. That is, until recently.

This past weekend I was given a chance to take a 5 day stay-cation from work and other responsibilities. I went with my husband and my father to a comic convention in the next county over. It was a grand time away from the repetitive hustle and bustle of day to day.

On the second day of the convention, I had decided to branch away from my spouse and go wander on my own. Charlotte has a few lovely green areas in the center of the city. Fountains, statues, and tall trees bring life to the otherwise cement and glass building jungle. It was in one such place that I was witness to an oddity that I have never heard of before.

I sat in the shade of one of the crepe myrtle trees next to a fountain for extra comfort. The shaded water helped keep me cool in the June heat. I was reading through a Squirrel Girl graphic novel when I heard the ramblings of someone speaking to themselves.

I looked up from the pages and watched a convention goer start twitching. The person next to her leaned forward in alarm to get a look at her face. The girl turned and shook her friend shouting, "Can you not hear it?!" People in the surrounding benches turned to look at her. Her friend was stunned to silence. All I could hear was the whispering of the fountain. I went back to reading.

The girl's friend grabbed her own ears and started shaking her head. Her shouting dragged me back from my relaxation. Gradually, everyone near their benches started covering their ears and yelling at each other. Some people walking past fell to their knees holding their ears. One person dressed as an electric blue and purple cat fox threw his costume's head to the ground just to grab at his ears. Yet all I heard was the sound of the water.

I gently closed my book and slide it into my pack to keep from grabbing attention. I watched as 20 or so adults wallowed on the ground in pain. One person dressed as some obscure character from Homestuck yelled that the sound of crickets needed to stop.

I inched closer. Where I rested was cut off from the street and from the doors leading into the convention center. I was about 10 feet away when I heard the gentle call of a cicada. That had to be what they were hearing. I took one long step back and listened to the sound fade quickly. I resolved to stay where I stood.

I glanced at wall of windows. No one inside saw what was happening. Convention security and officers just stood chatting at the main doors. Convention goers just passed by without a glance. I watched the people writhe in pain. I was helpless to do anything.

My phone going off broke the gapping silence. I had it turned up just in case someone needed to get through to me on the crowded convention floor. I was so happy to hear Danny Kaye, everyone else seemed to be as well. His voice singing broke through whatever was going on. I wondered if the frequency of my phone was just right to break the anguish of whatever they were hearing.

Slowly people got to their feet and gathered their wits. The first girl started crying in relief and grabbed her friend. The fox cat regained his footing and fixed his head. I helped him brush the leaves off the fake fur. No one made eye contact and no one said anything to each other. A heavy relief escaped everyone at once.

We all re-entered the hall together. I met up with my husband, who called and unintentionally saved the day. The rest of the day and the following, when everyone who was there that day saw each other, it was a nod of acknowledgement. It makes one not forget that even strange things happen in the daylight.