The silence weighed on Jack like a tangible thing. It was heavy and unbearable, and Jack almost found it hard to breathe. He looked up at the moon from his perch on his staff and sighed, just to lessen the quiet. But the brief sound of his exhale was quickly swallowed up by the oppressive silence and everything was left even quieter than before.
It had been two weeks since he had risen up out of the lake on which he now stood, knowing nothing but his name. He had quickly learned of the mystical powers he possessed and that he was invisible and untouchable to every person he had tried to reach out to. Every night had been like this one, and the silence, combined with the loneliness and the darkness, was starting to get to him.
The wind blew out of the north, curling around Jack's still figure. Jack was still not sure what his standing was with the wind, but it certainly seemed to like carrying him on its back. It called to him now, playful and excited. When Jack did not respond, however, it quickly sobered. After a few more attempts at arousing the boy, it gave up and whooshed away to do whatever it is that the winds do.
Jack regretted ignoring the wind as soon as it was gone; he knew he should not have done so. He knew all too well what it was like to be ignored. And the wind's rushing sound in his ears had, just for a moment, taken away the crushing pressure of the silence. He knew that if he was to stay sane, he had to do something to keep that pressure at bay.
Jack cleared his throat, which was dry and rough from screaming at the people in the town to see him, to touch him, to do anything to show him that he really existed, that he was not some sort of mass hallucination. His voice cracked a bit as he began to hum, softly at first but with increasing strength. It was not any particular tune, but as it went on he realized that it had evolved into a song he knew, though he could not say how. His humming turned to words, and before he knew it he was singing, a soothing lullaby with words that simply sprang to his lips without any conscious effort.
In the back of his mind he could almost hear another voice accompanying him, soft and sweet and female. He felt as if he should know that voice; he struggled to hold onto it, to find out who it was. But as the last notes of the melody faded away, so did the distant voice- or was it a memory?
The silence was back now, but it was not oppressive like it had been before. No, now it was almost peaceful. Jack closed his eyes, allowing the rhythm of the lullaby to reverberate in his mind even as it disappeared from the air. Big, soft snowflakes began to gently fall, and Jack jumped off his staff and migrated to the nearest tree. Leaning his head against the bark, he allowed himself to drift to sleep. He knew now that the silence could always be broken.
Before long the ground was coated in a soft down of white that reflected the silver beams of the moon.