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Diary entry:

Dear Diary,
Imagine, if you will, a world without children. A world without the sounds of play, without screams and squeals and hysterical laughter. A world without calls of ‘Mum’ and begging for sweets. A world without endless litanies of ‘what?’ and ‘why?’ and ‘how’?. A world without scolding and nagging and fathers admonishing sons to mow the lawn. A world without mothers calling their children in for dinner. A world without ‘No!’ and ‘I don’t wanna!’ and stamping feet. A world without the crying and giggling of babies. A world of empty yards, empty parks, empty schools. I never knew the world could be so quiet.

Diary Entry:

Dear Diary,
I realised this morning that I can still hear the normal sounds of life. The warble of the magpies is still there, the sigh of leaves, the barking of dogs. Music still blares from the house next door. Trucks still grumble on the freeway. None of this has changed. But there’s a muted quality now, like I’m listening through a veil.

Diary Entry:

Dear Diary,
The world hasn’t stopped. People still go about their daily lives. They still jog and drive and work every day. They still talk and laugh and drink with their mates. They still eat. They still sleep. They still fuck. But there’s something missing. It’s in their eyes, a missing spark which no longer twinkles. We’re alive, but not living, not really. We’re stuck in some endless play and can’t find our way from the stage. It’s like the children were our soul, and now our soul has departed and our bodies long to follow.

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Categories: Fiction Friday

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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