The Noises

By Bryce Janks
Darkness was what I knew. It was a friend to those who once lived in these twisting
tunnels. I lived peacefully in my darkness, as I needed little more than what I had. The roots that
came from above were plentiful, and fed me for years on end. The darkness was perfect,
organized. Life was simple. Fine and simple. I did not wish for it to change, but something else
must have. For, my life was interrupted, as we heard something clatter above the ground.
Several heavy objects thumped against my ceiling, as I heard them move above the tunnels,
each dull thud hitting the ground as if it were orchestrating a dance, instructing the noises to
repeat in a certain direction. I was unsure of them, why these objects would move around with
such speed and sound. I wondered if they ever became tired, but it never seemed that they did.
I felt invaded. I dug this tunnel, why do those above the ground decide to poke fun at me with
their mocking dance? I grew to resent them. Every day, there would be a new noise above the
ground. A loud beeping noise followed by a large object scraping itself across the ground.
Noises that seemed individual of each little identity, as if each of the small dancing objects had
decided to make a different noise from the near-identical thud that they made. A high-pitched
wail followed by another, as if the thudding objects had a way to communicate that was beyond
my understanding.

Soon, bigger objects began to move around. A constant chugging sound thundered as a
giant object now seemed to roll over my ceiling. I couldn’t think of how irritating it was the first
time. However, to my surprise, it didn’t stop, but instead kept on repeating, over and over as if it
thought it humorous to purposefully irritate me. The object chugged back and forth above my
head for years. It was persistent, ever present. maybe it knew that it was annoying me. Maybe it
could see me below the surface, and I wasn’t alone. All that I could care about anymore wasn’t
the magical chugging object, but that the roots were still plentiful, and that I was still in darkness.

Then, one day, after an especially loud chugging, with a squealing hooting noise, the
object vanished. It had simply left. The big chugging object had gotten bored with me, after all of
these years.

However, I had but a few more sleeps to ponder this, as all of a sudden there began a
horrid sound of clanking. I waited anxiously for it to leave, for it to grow bored with me as the
large chugging object had, but the sound kept getting closer and closer. Over many sleeping
days I listened to the clanking, slowly inching closer and closer to me. I dreaded its arrival. I
waited in my darkness, as it felt uncomfortable for the first time. I did not wish for the clanking
noise to find me. I did not wish for it to do something to me, my darkness, nor my plentiful roots,
for what would I do without them?

I missed the predictable chug of what seemed like years ago now, always there when I
was waiting. I had little time to think, however, as above me a final clank dug into my tunnel, as
sediment and dust covered my body. I looked, not to the darkness, but upwards, as the large
clanking object quickly dislodged itself. I looked into something I had never seen before. In from
the newly formed hole beamed light, shining through the gaping wound in what used to be my
ceiling. I had not wished for this, yet I beckoned to be brought into the light. I watched it as it
cast its brilliant rays onto me. Alien in nature, the brightness shone down with an empowered
glow. However, it did not mock me as the sounds did. It instead welcomed me. I felt as though
there may be more of my simple existence, as I felt it cast warmth upon me. I wished to meet its
embrace, to maybe speak with it and ask it a question, as I reached out for the light, putting my
face up to the open hole. I decided to climb out into the warm light above, to meet the light itself.