Quote:
Mysterious Carolers (6) : Caroling has been a tradition for years, so it’s not really unusual when you hear a soft chorus from outside. What is unusual is that it’s three in the morning, and the moment they start singing you feel a chill in the air. Maybe it’s a holiday song, maybe it’s not, but whatever it is it’s a song you know before--from this life? From another?--and something about this version makes you go cold. If you move to the window, you will find no carolers, but the song is loud enough that you know you should be able to see them. They sing one song, and then there is silence. An eerie chill lingers, and your dreams are haunted by strange voices. You’ll probably never be able to hear that song again without feeling unnerved.
Word Count: 529
Vyn never had the house to himself. He didn’t even have his own room. He shared the house for convenience and a room to save space, and he told himself he didn’t mind. He didn’t need silence. He didn’t need solitude.
There were always footsteps in the hall. There was always water running. Voices carried through the walls even when the words themselves were indistinguishable. He couldn’t go five feet without seeing evidence of his fellow housemates. A uniform jacket hung over the back of a chair. A stack of plates sat discarded in the sink. A cup of half finished tea sat on the counter, cold and forgotten. There were plants and books and blankets scattered around the living area. Vyn found someone’s source stone on the floor and grimaced at the not infrequent display of carelessness.
The house was oddly quiet tonight, an instance so rare Vyn thought he should cherish it, but the illusion of solitude troubled him as much as the lack of it. He stood in the middle of everything without knowing his place, lost among familiar people who became less so by the day.
Earth had changed too much—in him; in the others, and not always for the better.
A song drifted on the wind outside, disrupting the calm stillness that wouldn’t have lasted anyway. Vyn shivered. After three years on Earth, he generally knew what to expect from its people, but gathering outside in the cold to sing haunting songs at three in the morning was strange even for them.
Vyn had seen the carolers before. They went around town during the early winter, singing about gifts and starlight and a peace that wasn’t real. They sang outside the flower shop. They sang in various spots around the university campus. They sang with smiles on their faces and hope in their hearts. Vyn thought it a bit like mass delusion. Their jolly bearded man with the presents was a myth for children, and their baby born to a virgin in some ramshackle stable was a myth for adults. They crafted songs around both to give themselves comfort and joy, but it was all temporary. The season came and went. The songs stopped. Toys broke. Gifts were discarded and misplaced.
After wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, Vyn padded over to one of the windows. He looked out into the night but found no one there. There were no warmly dressed figures huddled together in the yellow glow cast by the porch light. There weren’t even fresh footprints in the snow. The song continued with no one there to sing it, so familiar Vyn could almost hum it to himself.
He went to the door. A hush fell as soon as he opened it. The only sound was the wind and softly falling flakes of snow. Vyn checked his ComTech, but it offered no evidence that anyone had been in the area other than some of his fellow housemates, tucked away in other areas of the house.
Vyn heaved a sigh. He shut the door. He stood alone, shivering in the silence, unable to enjoy it as much as he thought he should.
