Short Shots: Official Contest November

Roy Grey had always loved the country air. Ever since he was a kid, he had always jumped at the chance to walk down the long, winding path from the family farm to the town. His brother thought he was insane, walking three miles ‘just for the air’. His mother thought it was sweet, poetic. “It takes a true human being to be able to find the beauty in nature. Roy is one of them. How lovely.” She had once said. He had smiled for a week straight after that. His father was the reason he loved the country air so much.

When he was a little boy, Roy’s father had taken him out on the farm early to talk to him. “Just stand here for a minute, my boy.” He had told him. “Just for a minute. Just close your eyes and feel the wind in your hair. Smell all those different smells; the chicken feathers, the wool, the grain. Everything. Just listen to the world. Don’t look! Don’t open your eyes! You don’t need to, just listen. Feel it, smell it. What do you smell?”

Roy breathed in deeply at the memory, a small smile playing on his lips as he remembered his answer. “Cow pats, Pops. Can we move somewhere else? They reek.” His father had just laughed. “Not yet, son, not yet. What do you hear? Don’t answer straight away, just listen and then tell me.” Roy said nothing. He did as his father said, and listened. He could hear the cows in the paddocks, the dogs whining in their sleep, the early birds twittering and cooing softly. Then, he heard a sound that made his heart stop beating.

The whole world seemed to stand stock still as the winds blew gently through the long grass, creating the sweetest sound he had ever heard. To anyone else, it would have been nothing more but a rustle, but to Roy it was like angels were singing to him. A smile graced his lips in wonder as the melodic whisper continued to fill his ears, making his heart soar. He allowed it to fill his body before he finally answered…

“Music! Pops, I can hear music!” Roy’s eyes snapped open, looking at the small form by his side. He smiled at his son, whose eyes were still closed, listening to the world around him. The small boy opened his eyes and looked up at his father. “Listen! It’s music, Pops! Listen!” Roy knelt beside the younger-looking version of himself. They shared the brown hair and sea-green eyes Roy had shared with his father. And by the sounds of it, they both heard the music.

“What does the music sound like, Tom? Describe it to me.” Roy whispered. Tom turned on his ‘thinking face’, his usually soft features contorted in concentration. “It sounds like… It’s like… It’s like…” Suddenly his features softened again and his small lips formed a content smile. “Angels. And they’re singing to me.”

Roy smiled before standing up and continued to walk down the winding, 3 mile road towards the town. He stopped walking after a while, turning back to face his son. Roy smiled at the sight of his son still with his eyes closed, not moving an inch, just listening to the angels. “Tom, we gotta go! C’mon!” he called out, his heart aching slightly as the beautiful sight was disturbed as his son reacted to his calls.

Roy turned back around and started walking again as Tom ran up to him, soon catching up. Roy smiled widely as Tom’s tiny hand grasped his large, calloused one, his other hand clasping his tool box. Just like all those years ago, with Roy and his father.

Word count: 622