Writing Noise: A Note to the Messenger

Fancy

Aristocrat
Member
Hello! I'm Fancy and I decided to start this short story. Its a tad on the long side though. Well, I hope you enjoy it.



Noise
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A Note to the Messenger

The clock tower rang with a radiant dong that reverberated throughout the dystopian world. It breathed life into the world in a second with its merry swing, and filled the empty streets with a showering noise that would reach the deafest of ears. It flew around the sky as the birds would have and whisked away to the clouds. The world remained silent through this noise, and only echoed silence in the remains of what it once was.

In the silent abyss, a wrench was held aloft with a creative and almost futile hope that fate could be changed, life could be altered, and time could possibly be transcended. The Scientist had tried to hold himself together throughout the years with hope and faith, but he began to realize that was fading. Refusing to die without seeing his last creation done, he rolled up his sleeve revealing a strange marking that shined radiant blue; static emerged from his fingertips powering it up to unfathomable speeds. He typed multiple codes and analyzed blueprints within seconds. It seemed like he had spent a century of building and crafting in a simple second as he finally finished his grand creation. "Oh what a toll has time taken on my spirit," he said with a faint grimly grin of reminiscence of an earlier time. He had only been twenty one, he looked younger than his age even so; as if time had held him still, kept him hostage in that state.

He commanded the seal that had cursed him into a life of bloodshed, a life of suspended motion in the wreckage, to take him back once more; to undo the foul curse. His eyes flashed, fire was his eyes. A flash of light painted the room blue and all that remained where the Scientist stood was the cold, dreary air that longed for noise and life.





It was May 5th, 2011. Another ordinary day it had seemed, the raindrops poured over the streets of Lexington Square and was accompanied by the hassle of the beeps, honks, and water splashing all around the ever still suffocating gloomy home he had come to know. His eyes had come upon his house, where he would rest and be comforted from the coldness of the day. With every footstep, the dream of warmth became closer and closer, but as he reached the doorway, a blue flash had mesmerized him.

He shook his head as he tried to wake himself back into the reality, the reality of the gloomy raindrops and coldness, the ever-blasting senseless noise that he wished would disappear, the life that he wished could become a game like the ones he delivered every day at his profession as a gaming delivery boy. He rushed to the door, thinking that a robber or criminal might greet him in his home after pilfering his worthless possessions that other people deemed as valuables that he couldn’t have cared less about. He stared at the door intensely, not for the valuables that he didn’t want that people insisted on giving him, not for the sleep that teased him of imaginary fables and things that were forever out of his grasp, but for the entrance to another reality, an escape from the cold and the dreary, the gloom and the boring, and the darkness that he had begun to know quite well.

He thrust the door open as it swung a man in a lab coat came out of it tumbling into his arms, obviously the man couldn’t walk but he didn’t seem to be crippled, more or less out of energy. He steadily was able to sit the man down onto his porch while he tried to organize his thoughts, asking the right questions, and doing them the right way. He tried to steady his tongue but the words poured out like a blasting waterfall with such a stumble and stuttering that he wanted to slap himself in the face to regain the peace and calm he had before this elderly man came tumbling out of his house.

“Why was” he said stumbling and mispronouncing the why as the old man had looked so sincere, and so kind that his mouth didn’t need to speak, his eyes did.

“What happened, why were you in my house?” Lex demanded to know, closing his eyes; he refused to be pierced by the oh so kind and weird eyes that stared at him with such a familiarity that it all seemed fantasy-like, a dream that had taunted him once again. The man reached into his pocket, stumbling a bit himself as it seemed he had lost so much energy he could nearly pass out, and gathered an envelope sealed red with ribbons. “I’m you from a horrible future you have to stop.” His voice was faint, out of breath and out of power, there was no passion in his voice, there was no emotion, as if a computer had been voicing out words.

He lifted up his white sleeve and showed him a birthmark that he had, and Lex was upset and confused as he did so, for it was the same birthmark that he had by some foul operation that was blamed on by an infrequent mistake. Lex wanted to look closer at the birthmark and see the exact mirror image of his stigmata that had been with him for so long, that had made him differ and stand out from so many. As he leaned closer, the man turned to dust falling to his shoes, Lex leaped back in shock and in worry. Was he going insane? Nothing could have done that, no one could have masqueraded him so perfectly, or know him so well in order to even brainstorm such an outrageous thought to do so, nor could they have turned to dust be it by any mechanical machinery whatsoever, so what was laying before him thought Lex. He looked at the note sacredly, as he began to reach it and fondle the note like an old forgotten friend.

Lex relinquished the blood red strings attached to the envelope which entombed it as most sacred notes would have done. He opened the envelope with a carefulness and familiarity that had accompanied him on every delivery he made on his job. He slowly gathered the note out of the envelope and unfolded it, he swiveled his head back and looked at the moving cars, the source of the noise followed by the raindrops. He glared at the vicinity, the noise vexed his very being.

He wanted to retreat into the house from the blaring uproar of the cars that still crowded his street. He couldn’t read with all of the noise. He paced himself as he walked inside, passing the dust that lay on his porch. He closed his eyes, his mind harbored fear and his heart desired valor; courage strong enough to discern the truth that lay in front of him. He didn’t know quite what awaited him, but his heart beated slow, as if to a metronome. He threw open the door once again clutching the note in his hand.

He shut the door behind him with little force, he had no need to be angry now, he was in his home. A nirvana of peace that had comforted him from the harsh storm of horror that he had witnessed outside. The front room of the house was cluttered with boxes of books and old consoles that he had collected all throughout his life. He walked further, and sat down at the table he had, which had superfluous dishes and plates that he had neglected to put away. He sighed to put away all the emotions that had ran through his mind and began reading.

“Lex, I know you, because I have lived your life. The life of dreaming to live a fantasy. While fantasies are a gateway to emotion, to happiness, they are not a gateway to life itself.” Lex read the words perplexed and puzzled. He paused for a moment as he read the sentences over.

He then moved on to the next sentence, “I lived in a nation where its society is blatantly so mesmerized by entertainment that they lose all interest in worldly affairs, picturing a good ending for themselves, but not working toward it. So, as of today, I’m pleading you to do a favor, a favor to yourself and to your society.” Lex stumbled upon the words, his lips quivered and he began to get lost in thought. He read the final end to that sentence “You must inspire changes to your very own nation.” Echoes of silence filled the room.

“I dream of a world where people no longer wage war or kill each other over meaningless things. Look, where has it gotten us now? A period of destruction, where there is little life. They no longer even live to enjoy the pride that they fought, killed, and waged war for. Humanity is better than this. We can do something right now, Lex. I believe we can.” Doubts ran through his mind, could one person really change the future? Lex questioned. “I’m just a raindrop in an ocean.” Lex murmured as he tried to steady himself, his attention flew to the last paragraph.

“Even raindrops make ripples” Lex stared at the sentence, as if the words that he stared at had stared back at him in return, meeting his gaze. “I’m not asking you to put away your fantasies, I’m asking you to care again. Care about the friendships you have, care about the people that are in your life, care about the world! And...do something about it.” Lex said as he finished reading the note. He put the note down and left the house to go back onto the porch, where he was immersed in the raindrops and the sounds of the honks and beeps that was now music to his own ears, it Comforted him and was preparing him to be among the raindrops...

To one day make a ripple.​
 
You've got some fancy writing! ;) I like your writing style and I'm looking forward to seeing more of your work! What was your inspiration to write this? I just finished watching an anime about Time Machines, haha. It was funny to read this now thinking of that. I imagine the main character to look like the one of Steins;Gate now.
 
Thanks, and this was mostly inspired by the thought "If you could go back in time what would you change?". But deeper than that, "If you could and did, how would you change it?" Lex's way of changing it would be to inspire people to follow suit as to how he has been changed. So, in a way, he's the messenger.
 
Very creative. I don't think I've seen a story quite like this one. You must've put your imagination to good work writing this one. :)
 
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