‘‘The Once-Quiet Clearing’ outside of Langston remained a secret in its prime, its location and existence guarded by the locals through a silent understanding: that it was too good for the world’s eye. It was maintained entirely by the care of its visitors, by the picnicking families and the amateur yogis and the various plant, bird, and cloud watchers. ‘The Once-Quiet Clearing’ provided a wholesome nothing- an empty space and the soft, general silence of a sleepy forest. More than that, ‘The Once-Quiet Clearing’ seemed to sand the edges off sound. Through some acoustical quirk, it was simply difficult to make noise there.
And then, there was a murder.
A man was stabbed to death with no fewer than 15 people in the nearby area, all of whom reportedly heard neither struggle nor scream. An investigation began, a suspect was apprehended, and the case was closed but not before the strange circumstances of the initial killing broke the monotony of a slow news day, first regionally and, eventually, nationally.
With that, the world’s eye turned and saw, for the first time ‘The Once-Quiet Clearing.’
The clearing’s silence became a novelty- a challenge. People arrived with every instrument of sound known to man and battled the noise-dampening effects as part of mystery-themed tour packages. A smaller sub-group of visitors came alone, looking for a place to make their confessions or tell their secrets. They knelt to the ground and whispered to the grass like members of a loose cult. After a year of these brutal attentions, ‘The Once-Quiet Clearing’ began to gray.
The clearing remains open and the way is well signed. It is still, for the most part, a quiet place. These days, the clearing is better known for a distinctive rattle- the rustle of dried leaves and browned grass. It is an autumnal sound, initially soothing, but increasingly like the deep cough of the profoundly ill. It is a place, now, that sours thoughts.
-excerpt, Autumn by the Wayside
