"Rhapsody" by Emily W

                 In the distant future, a totalitarian government arises from the devastation of World War III. In order to control the population, the government bans all forms of culture including music.

~o~

            The dull ceiling stared back at me as I laid on the cot. It was perhaps midnight, impossible to tell without a clock. My father insisted a clock cost too many stamps, but then again so did liquor, although that never stopped him. His snores rumbled away across the bedroom, indifferent to my insomnia. Carefully, I swung my legs over the edge of the cot and gingerly stepped onto the wooden floor. The uneven boards creaked ominously beneath my feet. I apprehensively glanced at my father, who carelessly rolled over in his sleep and continued his slumber.

            My feet treaded lightly over the stairs, past the tiny kitchen into the adjourning living room. Two tattered, bug-infested sofas, a nightstand and a table covered with empty bottles and bent playing cards, decorated the room.

Together my father and I shared the cramped apartment with several of his factory worker friends, who spent most of their days drinking, smoking and gambling away their paychecks. Without a mother, the apartment fell to waste. The paint peeled, the mold multiplied and a peculiar smell proliferated the rooms.

            A small, beat-up radio sat on top of a rickety nightstand in the far corner of the room. Turning on the dial, a boisterous propaganda speech calling for citizen support against the rebels filled the room. Balancing the dial between stations of continuous speeches, the radio emitted static. (For some reason white noise helps me sleep. I find its emptiness soothing).  With a casual air, I flopped onto the sofa and closed my eyes, allowing my mind to go numb.

             A strange metallic crackle caused the white noise to cease and an unfamiliar clamor replaced the static. An indescribable series of pitches, accelerated and flittered in a bizarre pattern. The noise gained in volume, causing my heart to race, before suddenly hushing, transitioning into a slower pace. Haunting and lonely, it spoke to the very essence of my being. It was almost, beautiful.

Within my soul, a small instinct realized that the unfamiliar noise was music. Instantly, I leapt from the sofa and clutched the radio to my chest to stifle the forbidden thing. Vibrating against my chest, the all too familiar cries of machine guns interrupted the music. The sound halted abruptly as bullets tore through flesh. Shouts from soldiers, heavy boots stomping, the scuffle of bodies being dragged and then silence. Deafening silence.

Instinctually, tears welled up in my eyes as I clutched the radio to my stomach rocking back and forth like a child. The music had played for no more than thirty seconds, but I could not help mourning the loss of something so beautiful. Deep within, the music filled a small crack that I never knew existed. And at that moment, I realized the world was filled with silence.