- Tears (of joy or sadness or ow-i-just-fell-over you decide)
it's some sort of roll i'm on.
or i just haven't written any b/m, b/w, j/w or anything else today. Must. let. writing. out.
The boys dug silently, the only sound the scrape of the metal against the dirt and rocks as they hurried through their six feet. Occasionally the rhythm would slacken a bit, someone stopping for a drink or to wipe the sweat off their forehead, Zig often patting his hair awkwardly. But always, eventually, they would fall back into a rhythm, something they could all dig to, something that was not too fast, not too slow, just that right speed.
“Pistol grip PUMP on my lap at all times…” Squid muttered rather wheezily, his breathing causing the words to come out with the wrong emphasis. Magnet looked up from his hole, so startled that he managed to trip over himself and fall back. Armpit started laughing slowly, in his way, leaning forward on his shovel as he peered at Squid interestedly.
“I know that song…” he said quietly, casting his mind back. Back, back, back. It was an old song, one that everyone used to sing, one he used to like. “Why’d you sing that song?” He asked, still remembering the way that song used to get everyone.
Squid shrugged and looked up from under his hat, running a finger along the brim of the cap, eyes following its path. “You know what that reminds me of?” Stan said, surfacing from the bottom of his hole, gloves flapping. Zig’s low baritone was added to the conversation, making Squid grin at the difference of his voice to everyone else’s.
“Does it remind you of that…youth of the nation song?” The other boys were silent as they thought, trying to remember that particular song.
“NOOO!” Stan said loudly, but no one was paying attention to him anymore.
“How’s it go, Zig?” Squid asked softly, wanting to get him to sing. Sometimes, at night when he couldn’t sleep and he thought everyone else was, Zig would sing. Everyone would be silent, hushed, waiting to see if he would, because he had such a great voice.
“No one ever listens to me…” Stan said, nearly sobbing. Still no one paid attention to him, knowing the tears would soon go away, knowing, from personal experience, the trails went away quite quickly.
“Um, it’s the one…we are, we are, the youth of the nation…we are, we are…” He trailed off, glancing around furtively, and then furrowing his brow. “I’m sure there was SOMETHING about a revolution or something…”
“Um, I think you’re getting your songs confused. Because doesn’t it go on about the girl and her um...well, you know…habits? I’d swear it does.” Squid thought again, and then nodded, convinced.
“Not ONE single revolution mentioned in the whole song. If you were singing ‘We’re Here’ by the Hippos, then, oh then, there’d be mention of a revolution…”
“Wait, how’s that one go? I think I hearded it before.” Magnet was standing again, swaying under the heat of the midday sun, his hand shielding his eyes against the reflection.
“The time has come, to choose which side you’re on; we’ve been waiting for so long…the revolution’s near…” Squid said quickly, embarrassed that he had even mentioned it. It was only the theme song of his entire life.
“Why were you singing it, anyway, Squid? How’d you just remember it?” Squid turned a bright red and shifted some sand with his foot, obviously not wanting to answer.
“It’s hard to let go of some memories, no matter how hard you try, right Squid?” Zig said softly, making all the boys nod and mutter in agreement.
It was later that night when the full force of his statement actually hit Zig. He was lying, pressed against the wall, fingers curled around Squid’s hips, hearts beating in time, listening to the sound of silence.
This was something he’d never let go of.