nothing 12

"If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Have you ever heard that question before? Is it supposed to be philosophical? I only think of mankind's stupidity when I think or hear that question. How self centered we are to think if we aren't there to witness something that it didn't happen. Of course there are other messages told within given context of a situation but standing alone, taken literally, it's ridiculous.

"Let's say a tree, like that redwood over there, is to fall. It will crash into surrounding trees on its way down, it will have its branches broken and splintered with the collision into the forest floor. There will be sound. That sound is no more significant or insignificant if witnessed or not by anyone else."

The forest stood in a mid days silence, the wood around giving off a pleasant warm pine aroma as the tree trunks caught glimpses of sunlight from the cracks in the canopy above. Here and there bushes of green with patches of grass and dirt lined the forest floor, much being covered with a brown layer of pine needles. The needles that shone brighter from sun rays gave off thee strongest smell. The speaker continued as they walked in a slow pace around.

"If a human does not witness an occurrence, it is not made less important. Just because an act is not seen, does not mean it didn't happen. If course it's harder to comprehend what may have occurred in a situation not recorded but there will be signs. I was told growing up that all living things leave something behind. Energy, their mark on this universe. All things are permanent and lasting. That I saw is bullshit."

The speaker crouched down to get closer, the smell of days without bathing started to creep into the fresh forest smell, the warmth of the day assisting the scents travel. Just gagging the mouth did not prevent the sense of smell.

"Record of this will be here," the speaker pointed at his head, tapping his temple, " and even then I'll forget it eventually. Your family will forget, your friends too. The forest," the speaker looked around, admiring the majestic flora, "it doesn't even know you are here. The time you spend here is but a flicker of a second to their perception of time. Less significant that the air displaced by a birds wing in flight."

The speaker stood and walked to a tree, placing his hand on the trunk. "The wood fibers within perceive much more than we give them credit for but we are nothing to them. Until we choose to cut them down. In an instant, fate unexpected falls with the swing of an axe or blade of a saw. Death is quick. When it falls it makes a final shout whether you hear or not."

The speaker turns back and walks to the figure tied to a small tree gagged. Eyes wide staring at the man. Her chest heaves up and down with panicked breath.

"You will make a sound," a hatchet is taken from the speakers belt and inspected. "A final shout. The question is, if you scream but nobody is around to hear it, do you make a sound?

The gag is removed and the woman continues to strain against the ropes binding her to the tree. She does not yell. Eyes even wider, now staring at the hatchet as it gleemed silver in the light of day.

"Well well well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe no sound is made. But to be sure," the speaker grabbed the woman by the hair and pushed her head to the tree trunks. Still she made no sound. The hatchet is held to her shoulder and with a quick fluid movement the sharp edge slices into the skin through her shirt deep.

She doesn't yell. She holds her breath, biting her lip. She is refusing to submit to the madman's game if it's the last thing she ever does.

The man is visibly upset for a moment, then his face relaxes. He lets go of the woman's hair and stands back.

"Yes, the first cut doesn't fell a tree."

In a split second, a blur of silver the hatchet is swung with determined force and buries itself into the woman's head. She made no sound her mouth stuck open in surprise and fear, eyes wide as bright red blood gushes over her brow and down her face, spalttered around on the ground as well.

The man stood in silence. Confused. He looked around, nobody was there. He looked back and the hatchet was in the woman's hand as she stood now unbound, her face stuck in the contorted silent scream, blood flowing. Her eyes now shined with a angry fierce fire than stood in contrast to the fear on her face.

The man screamed as the hatchet found its way into his neck, then chest, then finally his head with the scream now silenced yet seemingly echoing through the wood.

Did you hear it?