The Sound

Beneath the silence, a presence. Beneath the presence a sound. It was a frequency lower than any tone his ear could hear, but he knew it was there. He felt the sound through his body- a subtle frequency, a breath, a pulse, a sentience. It was alive. Could it be the rocks still ringing from the thunder outside? Or space still ringing from the dissipating echoes of the big bang?

As he tuned in, the sound grew. He could feel within it, delicate eccentricities, as if it were solid and he were placing his hands upon its surface, first noting its form, then sensing its texture, then going a layer deeper.

He could see the Sound- the softest glow in the room just on the other side of being visible. he could see it with something in him just beyond his physical eyes. It was like becoming suddenly and ever-so-softly aware of a new sense, a new color glowing in the room, and it too, had a formation.

Black crystals reached into the room from its walls, all facing the middle of the island upon whose shore he kneeled. The sound trickled through the dark glass spires and poured into the center, congealing in a soft mass of slow motion. It was almost electric, but too soft to be like the frantic energy of electricity. It was more like coalescing star dust.

Story shook his head and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he'd hit his head. The Sound was gone. The energy was no longer visible. Just him in the black cave surrounded by a body of water. Then he relaxed himself again in a similar way as he'd done before, and, as if adjusting the focal length of a microscope, and began again to see the Sound fill the Space.

He wondered if it was real, if it were just turning on or if it was here before and he were only now beginning to notice. When he wondered about it, he stopped seeing it.

He leaned in again into the mysterious relaxation, and like turning a radio dial from static to the signal of a station, an image glowed before him, and a soft tone emitted through the space. He felt a joy filling his body, a relief of so much of the burdens he'd so long been carrying. It was catharsis, the feeling of being okay, accepted, embraced... loved.

His eyes began to water again, and sound began pouring out of his mouth like an infant's murmurings while breastfeeding. Emotion broiled through him, so much of it, so much of it he couldn't understand and didn't try to, he just felt to let it through, like it was the first time it had ever been okay to... to let it go, to feel, to be free of all the things that held him in, caging his soul to a world of form and suffering.

His heart flooded in a pure river of himself, and his body made soft convulsions back and forth from his sacral, like shaking out a kink he'd never known to exist. The Space was moving him, holding him, supporting him.

He felt his body opening up. From a densely woven knot, all the spaces between cells of himself to open, and the fabric of his being was untwined. He had a vision of strings arranged in vast array upon a linear plane, like a harp of his anatomy. He was in ease for the first time since he'd had any memory and entirely vulnerable. From this state, the Sound began to strum.

Story could feel the electricity entering him like roots into the soil, spreading into complexity, and as they did, a new octave of the Sound emerged. It was more like a veil being removed from silence than a new sound being added.fear entered him in ecstasy, like the touch of god pirouetting through his veins in a shockwave through his feet sending all his cells into a blooming frenzy and pouring out his mouth. As it left his lips, a sticky, bile-like mucus excreted from him tasting putrid and emerging from an internal source he could not identify. He watched it leave his mouth, a stuttering gob trailing a stream of saliva towards the center of the congealing Sound. When it arrived, as if in reply, the Sound complexified as another tremor of thunder danced through the space.

Story could feel the electricity entering him like roots into the soil, spreading into complexity, and as they did, a new octave of the Sound emerged. It was more like a veil being removed from silence than a new sound being added.

He heard voices through the space- whispers and murmurings dripping into his awareness all around him, overlaying their presences, morphing into each other as if they were a school of fish Story was still in the center watching them flash through his field of vision. He felt the presence of unseen others in the room beside him as if they were all taking part in an ancient ritual of which he had no concept.

Though it was chaos all around, there was a sense of synergy between all the particles. They moved through a similar patterns, repeating a series of sonic formations. It was as if the presence was speaking in its own language and seeking to communicate. As story came to this realization, he too felt the presence of a melody, a phrase. He began mimicking it with his mouth- aligning and harmonizing with the presence in the room.

Story's hands moved instinctively, mirroring the rhythm of the music. He felt the energy of the storm coalesce around him, shaping its patterns around his movements. The vortex felt like an extension of his will, or he of its. Radiant energy bending and swirling in complex patterns around him.

Lost in the music, Story began to play. His movements were fluid, graceful, each gesture coaxing the energy into new forms. The space around him transformed, the storm's chaos giving way to a harmonious dance of light and sound. He felt as if he were painting with the very essence of the planet. There was something so intuitive, so familiar about this expression, painting with primal power.

As he communed with the energy in the room, he sensed its presence reaching into him, as if exploring the corridors of his being, amplifying his emotion and field of awareness- the awe, the beauty of the present experience, alongside the loneliness he felt upon the planet, the longing he had to return home, the fear and sadness that he'd never be able to do so. Even though Story was connecting with his own despair, it felt cathartic. All the sensations which were at other times debilitating, now brought relief as they came through, soothing him. Story felt lifted, and unfurled, his self sprawled out into the room, opened by the sound, so intimately known by the Presence.

He could feel something entering inside him. so ancient it shattered his concept of time, and it was fusing with his veins, changing his body at a molecular level. He could feel electric vines ringing behind his eyes, growing roots like fractals inside them.

The field of wild energy in the room pirouetted through its chaos into a vibratory arrangement of pristine patterning. The soundscape became musical, and a song began to play and a vision bled through the spaces between space in the room.

He saw the great desert plane just outside. The drums in the music served like a driving force reversing time. He watched the storm return across a massive landscape to its origin- a superstorm, one which lived at the heart of the planet. He went through the storm, entering its still center and saw himself staring straight into his eyes upon the other side, though his irises were made of the storm itself. He was noble, divine, unified with a force so far beyond Story's comprehension. His lips moved with the words:

His eyes began to glow in the same magmic presence as did the boy of the Crashed moon, though this time, instead of being consumed by despair, the figure Story watched was vitalized, illuminated, and Godly. He conducted the Storm, casting it out from his body, up into space, reaching for other planets and pulling them inside himself, growing brighter in the destruction of all others. Arms outstretched, eyes glowing, levitating, he spoke: