A Recording Studio, Somewhere...
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of sirens...
In restless dreams I walked alone...
Hey, um, hold up there. Hold up just a little.
Narrow streets of... Yes? Is something wrong. Was I pitchy?
What? Oh, no. No. You're voice sounded great. Very good.
Well, then. What's the problem?
It sounded like you said sirens on that first refrain.
Well, I did, actually. The sound of sirens.
Yes, well, that's not how it goes.
It doesn't? Pretty sure it does.
No, no. The actual lyrics are 'sound of silence.'
Silence? Now, that doesn't make any sense, does it? Silence doesn't make any sound.
That's the point. This is a 60s protest song.
I know that. That's why there's sirens. You know, "You coppers won't take me alive!" That sort of thing. Very relevant to today, actually.
It's not that kind of protest song. It's about the lack of true communication, the inability to say certain things or do certain things because of the way society is. People are discriminated against, and everyone else has to keep silent.
I'll say there's discrimination! That's because of the sirens!
Okay, look. Just take it from where you left off, and just say silence this time.
All right. All right.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of sirens
And in the naked light...
Hold up. Hold up. Stop.
What?
You did it again. You said sirens.
I know. I was going to say silence, but then it didn't seem to fit with the lyrics, did it?
What do you mean it didn't fit with the lyrics?
It didn't.
How so?
Well, look at it.
I'm looking.
Down there where it says:
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
Now what do you suppose that is?
It's the neon sign they talk about later in the song. The one they're bowing and praying to.
What? Really? Come on. It's the lights on a police car, man! It's the flashing light! It splits the night! Hence, sound of sirens?
You know, he makes a good point.
Okay, I don't need you chiming in, too.
Sorry.
Look. Let's take a break. Come back to it after lunch. Okay?
Nice. I am getting hungry. I've been thinking of faux waffles all morning.
Faux waffles?
You know, you think they're waffles, but they're not.
I think he means falafels.
Sigh. I'm getting too old for this.
About This Post
This short story is an entry for today's (Wednesday, February 13) five minute freewrite. The prompt is the 'sound of sirens.' If interested in participating, write a post in five minutes using the daily word prompt, publish it, and then link to the day's freewrite post in the comment section.
Song lyrics from Simon & Garfunkel's 'The Sound of Silence.'
Images source—Pixabay