The Dasti Experiment...12

Lights in the darkness may only be your imagination.

"Amen," Eloro said once more before turning to wobble back to her chair. "An odd name for a boy, don't you think?"

Dasti nodded.

"Amen," Eloro said. She sat and put a hand to her chin, staring through the floor.

Dasti watched her.

Eloro rocked back and forth, back and forth, muttering to herself. Her words were too soft for Dasti to hear clearly. But he could hear the sound of her chair, scuffing the floor as she rocked. He could hear the sound of Eloro's breathing, clear and hard.

Dasti could hear everything.

He heard the breath of the drapes as they whispered in invisible breezes across a shut window. He heard the blind flies bumping into walls, and the excited squealing of a spider whose web caught one. He could hear the trills of the floorboards as Eloro rocked over them.

Dasti could hear anything.

He heard the church, then.

The church cried.

Dasti went to the windows and pulled them shut, even though they were already shut. He pulled the whispering curtains over the silent panes.

He could feel Eloro's eyes, watching him, but she did not see.

The windows, closed. The curtains, pulled. The cries, quieted.

But that was only because Dasti put his hands over his ears.

Eloro picked up a tea cup and put it to her lips. There was no tea in the cup. She put it back down. Eloro reached out for a different cup. It was also empty, but she raised it to her lips anyway. Then she put it back down. Again. Again.

"They're all empty," Eloro said. She sounded surprised.

Dasti pulled the curtains open again.

"All empty."

Dasti looked out the window. Flames jumped from the church.

"The church is on fire!"

"All empty."

"Eloro!"

"All empty," Eloro said, raising a teacup.

"The church!"

"Empty," Eloro said.

Dasti grabbed a coat from the wall and ran out of the room.

"Empty!" Eloro called after him.

She walked to the window and peered out. Then she stepped back and pulled the curtains across the window.

"Empty."

Wake up in the early morning and look out the windows. The songs of the birds are battle cries. Empty challenges. Empty. Empty like their skies.