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Silence

Story By StormDancer


It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.


Thud. Thud. The dull sound of flesh striking flesh, intense hand to hand combat. The run down old gym, abandoned but not yet forgotten, was silent except for the movement of feet, the swish of a cloak. No sounds of pain were heard from either combatant, no battle cries or screams of triumph. The most this gym had heard since the long ago time when it was used, this silent battle.

A flash of pink or a hint of black colour the gray backdrop. No magic, rather hair and cloak, moving faster than the eye can follow. Quickly, ruthlessly, exploiting weaknesses, the fight continues. A sensation of numbness pervades the room, with the lack of sight and sound. All of the unseen eyes of the ghosts who once populated this place are drawn to the only movement.

Concentration evident on both faces, no maniacal grins or pained frowns. Controlled, scheming expressions working to be the victor. No eyes meet for a crucial second, no fleeting exchange of hatred. No emotion flickers across the faces of the participants in this calculated, silent battle. Equally matched, the fight never seems to cease, both stubbornly refusing to yield.

A clock tolling somewhere in the distance breaks the haunting silence. As one, the warriors step apart. They walk to a side, where a bench sits, lonely and abandoned. One grabs two water bottles, and throws one to the fellow fighter. The other tosses the first a towel, gratefully used to wipe away the sweat which has accumulated, disturbing the dusty floor.

"Same time next week?"

"If you aren't in jail."

"I won't be."

Raven disappears in the portal of black energy. Jinx walks the opposite way, back to her own life. The gym waits, the silence now complete.