In Silence Lies Chaos  

by  Carla Hamieh (9B)

Title	In Silence Lies Chaos
Characters	·       Major: the writer ·       Minor:  The driver, and the writer’s friends
Setting	·       Time: April 13, 2012                      On a Friday night ·       Place: London
Problem	·       Arriving in London on the wrong day, at a wrong time, for a well-known superstition led to havoc and despair
Major Events	·       doubting all the creepy signs of soon havoc that might happen because of a superstition known by the citizens of London ·       hearing eerie noises from upstairs ·       one of my friends deciding to check the source of the sound ·       leading to his death
Conclusion	·       Superstitions may be true; one just has to believe and dig deeper to find the exit and the truth behind these tales created by people.

In Silence Lies Chaos

    “A person’s mind is so powerful. We can invent, create, experience, and destroy things with thoughts alone.” This quote asserts that the root of all superstitions goes back to the tales that took shape as the coincidences encountered by mankind in the time where science was anonymous, creativity was wonderous, and mysteries were the interest of people that lured them to dig within its treasures. And as a person can design symphony of illusion, he also has the talent of creating destruction and fear to those who only knew peace. Being freaked out by innocent pets like owls and black cats, believing people who are able to decide one’s  mood for the day and changing the fact that the rise of temperature which leads to the redness of one's ears is a sign that others are gossiping about him or her are different behaviors of superstitious people that I never believed in, yet all my life I have been convincing myself that what I witnessed was just a dream, or if I may say a nightmare that was uneasy to bare and decipher still to this day, but unfortunately as true as it was, which was losing one of the few people I trusted to creatures that allowed themselves to enter our world without permission.

      It was an icy, frosty Friday night when my friends and I finally stepped foot on the streets of London after a ten-hour flight that killed us alive as our souls danced with joy and pain. That was on April 13, 2012. As we wandered around, waiting for our drive to the house we had booked, I couldn’t help but notice the eerie aura around us, the “we are closed” signs, and I couldn’t stop the perplexing feeling I got as I looked at the street-lamps that stubbornly and determinedly shined into the night as if the street hadn’t heard laughter for a while. As our uber arrived, I couldn’t shut my mouth from asking the hurried and annoyed driver about the abandoned streets, and as he heard my question, he stared back with horror and I could’ve sworn that even the car was mortified enough to lose its balance; from what my friends and I understood from his stutter of words is that they claimed today to be “Seven Whistlers” because of some of the silly belief of superstitions and bad luck. And as intrigued and curious as I was in learning traditions and beliefs in other cultures, I found out that it is said that hearing mysterious whistles, normally from birds or spirits who call out to foretell death and great calamity, is a fear that scares people out of their wits. As we joked about the insanity of people who believe in that kind of illusions, we finally arrived at the expected shelter of ours. But little did we know what a baffling mystery awaiting us.

      

     As we entered the dim-lit house, the sketchy vibe followed us inside as the bald, the fizzy grey-bearded owner welcomed us with trepidation and terror and demanded money in exchange for the key; who also, after taking his desire, ran like a mad man as if the shadow of death was chasing him to hell. We were just as puzzled as the wind that screamed through the window which affected in the fear of the curtains who took refuge in the middle of the house, width-wise, as we, in a blink of an eye calmed the wind by slapping it with the help of the window. Every inch of this house was as creepy as its owner. It started with a sound upstairs; one single sound that traumatized us and turned our vacation into a nightmare. A few seconds passed as we heard another loud shriek that slowly faded to allow another sound to penetrate our ears and fill our hearts with panic and fright. I started calming down the trembling girls with doubt and insecurity painted on my face. On the other hand, one of our male friends, and if I may say my closest friend, decided to channel all his fears and check the source of this sound. As he left, my heart was beating so loud it might’ve been heard, then we waited. After a few minutes, the unbelievable happened. We heard our friend’s agony dominate the whole house. And then, everything turned into silence. No one knew what happened. We hurried upstairs as our hands were shaking, the smell of each person’s sweat could be clearly recognized as our bodies produced buckets of sweat. As we arrived, I could hear the sorrow of my friend’s voice as she shattered to the ground crying. I couldn’t decipher what happened until I saw it.

      It was a disturbing view, far from reality, far from the script we wrote about having this significant trip together. Body parts were scattered on the floor, but not just anybody parts, our friend’s body parts, he who thought that he could protect us, save us from this misery. It was absolutely horrible. I had just realized a mysterious body in the far corner hidden behind the moonlight as it slowly stepped into the light only to find out that it wasn’t any normal creature. It was a gigantic beast, with the head of a deceased flower that has grown into the purest form of evil, with the same body and enormity as a human being that crawls like a gorilla who jumped into this hell-filled portal that portrayed as his Mother Land where he and many other creatures originated from. And that was when it hit me. The article before that I read which was about whispers and how if one hears them, they will bring bad luck was not the full version of the story. Apparently, on this day, a diversity of creatures from other dimensions are allowed to open this gate that separates us from their world and enter, killing one person per year, and unfortunately, my friend was the victim. It was hard to comprehend that one of my closest friends is no longer with us. It was frustrating and depressing that I lost one of the few people I could trust. But it happened. And no one will ever hear the truth without laughing even though we lost a pure and angelic heart and soul.

     People always mock superstitious people and their belief in such unscientific tales that people invented. But what if they were true? What if those people have created this wall of sarcasm just to escape the reality, the fact that some superstitions are real? Superstitions will always create question marks that might open the door for curiosity, and it is never wrong to swim in the ocean of illusion, discover its every treasure and wonder, and open eyes to the pros and cons of superstitions as to its beauty that adds a special excitement in one’s life or creates this hideous monster that could destroy one’s life. Superstitions are the comics of life, and without it, life is simply a routine with no exciting journeys, yet people who are ready to start such an expedition have to be careful in what they choose, for it could lead to their destruction and death.