Prompt: <psychic lullaby Participants: Thanksgiving evening, as we sat around the table sharing what we were thankful for, we descended into wonderful silliness. My daughter and her friend Nate threw out a prompt for the writers in the family. This is my answer to their challenge. Enjoy. | Mally laid her aching head down on the pillow. Why did no one tell her how tired she would be after having a child? Dear Creator, all she wanted to do was sleep. The wail started as soon as she began to drift off. No! she wailed herself. Dragging her exhausted body out of bed, she staggered into the nursery. Go to sleep, Bunchy, please. She patted the tiny bundle on the back. Hush little baby don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird. And if that mocking bird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring. The wails continued. Mally couldn't wait until Rayle got home from work so he could hold the baby while she stepped outside for fresh air and momentary quiet. By the time Rayle walked through the front portal, Mally was in tears herself. No better? Rayle asked, wrapping Mally in a hug. She shook her head miserably. No! I must be doing something wrong! Mally, you aren't doing anything wrong. It's our first one. We'll figure it out. But Shaalis and Berrin are first-time parents, too, and Villy doesn't cry all the time. Have you sung to him? Rayle asked. My mother sang to my little sister all the time. It always worked. Of course, I have. My mother and the healer already told me that. Sing. Hah! Rayle picked the crying baby up, rubbing his back and walking the floor. Rock-a-by baby, in the treetop, When the wind blows, the cradle will rock, When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, And down will come baby, cradle and all. Rayle! Mally punched him playfully on the shoulder. Don't sing that. It's horrid! Sleep, baby, sleep Your father tends the sheep Your mother shakes the dreamland tree And from it fall sweet dreams for thee. Mally and Rayle spent the rest of the evening walking Bunchy, singing to him, feeding him, and finally putting him in his crib. The poor little thing finally fell asleep, exhausted. The two shell-shocked parents collapsed on their bed. Mally, I think we need to take him to the healer. Maybe he's really sick. Oh, Rayle, no. Mally's face scrunched and her own tears flowed. The thought that the tiny little Bunchy might actually be ill frightened her. Illness was so rare. Do you think so? Rayle nodded. I don't think we're doing anything wrong, but we are missing something. The next morning the two worried parents sat in the healer's waiting room, flipping through the ancient holographs on the chair screens. Why do healers never have any new holographs. Good grief, this one is three years old! Look how grainy the image is. Rayle shrugged. Some things were just incomprehensible. A tall thin woman entered, nodding to Mally as she approached. Mally. And you must be Rayle. She shook their hands, then took the screaming baby from them. Sayah, I must be the worst mother in the world, Mally sobbed. He has hardly stopped crying since I was here last. I did everything you suggested. Please, help me. I'm afraid of what I'll do if he keeps crying. I'm just so tired. Come, the healer said, motioning them back through the hallway into an exam room. Mally and Rayle sat, while Sayah stripped Bunchy down to his absorbent. The healer poked and prodded the baby while he wailed and sobbed. Sayah reached behind her, into a cabinet, and produced a strange device, which she clamped firmly of Mally's ears. Bunchy's crying shut off and blessed silence reigned. But when Mally looked at her baby, he was still screaming. She just couldn't hear him. Mally jerked the device off and flung it onto the floor. Bunchy's crying came back at full volume. What evil thing is that? she cried, pointing at the plastic and wire equipment lying next to Sayah's foot. It is called headphones, Sayah said calmly. Headphones? Yes, it shuts all sound off from the ears. Centuries ago it was used for listening to music. Why would anyone need those for listening to music? Rayle asked, perplexed. Because centuries ago people spoke. Spoke? Sounds came out of their mouths. There is a little-used juncture in the trachea made of muscle and cartilage that contains two folded mucous membranes. Centuries ago, this organ was vibrated by air passing out of the lungs, creating sounds. Until recently, scientists thought it was a vestigial remnant from when man was more fish than mammal. Since the rediscovery of creation as a viable scientific hypothesis for the existence of the universe, this is being rethought. They now believe it was used to communicate. That is what produces laughter. What...what does this have to do with Bunchy? Rayle finally found his thoughts enough to ask the question. Bunchy is crying, using his vocal cords. Mally and Rayle sat, stunned. The healer cuddled the screaming child. I want to try something. "Lullaby and goodnight, thy mother's delight, bright angels beside my darling abide." The words, forced through little-used vocal cords, croaked out into the quiet room. Bunchy stopped crying and stared at Sayah's face. Smiling through his tears, he crowed little sounds none of the adults in the room had ever heard. Bunchy cannot hear your psychic lullabies. He cannot hear your soothing words. He is psychically deaf. When Sayah returned to communicating with her mind, the baby puckered up his little face, ready to launch into another screaming fit. Mally took him from Sayah, looked fearfully at her husband, opened her mouth, took a huge breath, and did something no mother had done in almost five hundred year. She sang to her baby. "Hush little baby don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird. And if that mocking bird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring." Bunchy smiled, hearing his mother's voice for the first time. |
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AuthorI began writing as soon as I could hold a pen. Then came college, marriage, and kids, and my life was full. Archives
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