Short Story: In Silence, We Sing

This is not a story of loss or sorrow, but rather of finding your way even when you are stripped of everything you once knew. It is a story of growing up and moving forward regardless of whether or not you are still the same person coming out of the other end of the tunnel. Of saying goodbye and discovering a new light, a new source of hope in the darkness. Because, when you are put face-to-face with everything you have ever been afraid of, love will always push through the fog with its blinding brilliance and lead you to shore. This is the story of Anneliese Weiser, a girl who was told her world was on the brink of losing all beauty, all splendor, and still took another step. And, of course, her brother, Rudolf, who held her hand and reminded her that she could.

Drip, drip, drip. Softly, incessantly, rain trickled down the cobblestone streets and fostered growth and renewal and better days. A low haze hung in the distance, eroding and becoming more gauzy as the sun transcended the earth and the stars flickered out like suffocated flames. The sloping mountains faded into sight; their dominating presence was almost tangible in the air and in homes. Winter was a fallen soldier, and the succeeding season was embraced with open arms and open doors. Hallstatt, Austria was a glory in the springtime, with children romping about and women carrying various dishes smelling of cinnamon and temperate summer nights. While there was a myriad to do and celebrate, only one was found in the far depths of her home, where even God couldn’t will her to emerge.

The fact was that Anneliese Weiser was going deaf at only fourteen years old. She would never be able to hear the bells at her wedding or her child’s first cry once its slippery body felt the cold breath of the earth. She would never be able to listen again to thunderstorms as they bombarded the land or the joyous yell of Mrs. Gruber as she asked the people of Hallstatt if they wanted to purchase fresh bread. Or dogs yapping, waves colliding with shore, wind respiring. Rudolf’s gentle hum as he stroked her blazing ginger hair out of her face when he thought she was long asleep. She would miss it all. Every sound, zinging through the air in waves and spirals, invisible to the eye but not the ear. She would miss it all.

Days passed, even though it felt as though they wouldn’t. Anneliese remained holed up in her nook of the house, the monumental scale of the world seeming desperately huge when juxtaposed with herself. When music and beauty dissipated into nothingness, life was sucked dry of purpose and meaning. It became endlessly bland and helplessly terrifying when she could see everything but hear nothing. Anneliese began to, very faintly, hum Johannes Brahms’ Lullaby, a habit picked up from her late father, who sang its melody as though he feared it would flutter away, coming back to him only as a distant memory he never could pinpoint. The repetitive nature eased her mind, but somewhere deep inside of herself, she could sense her brother waiting just beyond the door, just out of reach, as though she had tied an anchor to her ankle and started slipping, slipping, slipping. Anneliese had severed her relations between herself and the world and cursed it for what it had done to her. Gingerly, Rudolf’s silky, barely audible voice pulled her up from underwater. Hours a day he pursued her cooperation, but she had already hammered the final nail in the coffin. Without sound, without passion and pain, love and loss, all forged into notes for her to interpret, what was life?

“Puppy, I have to show you something.”

“You’re wasting your time, Rudy. You have a whole future ahead of you, one that shouldn’t require you to take care of me. Having to look after your impaired sister is too hard a task, and I won’t allow you-”

“No, it’s not too hard. Not if it’s you. I’d take care of you even if it meant spending a thousand lives to do it. You’re all I have left. We’re blood, Anne. Please, let me show you something.”

Reluctantly, Anneliese opened the door and was met with her brother’s strong arms pulling her close, silently telling her that even though she was going deaf, he wouldn’t leave her blind, too. Through his eyes, she saw the world in color, swirling ribbons of light that reminded her how to be good. That there still was goodness.

“You’re still alive, Puppy. You’re still alive and the sun still rises every morning and you have the strength to stand up. Stand up and prove to me that you are alive. That you are brave. That you are all I believe you are.”

Anneliese thought about his words. Stand up and prove to me that you are alive. That you are all I believe you are. When Papa went to war to fight against Napoleon Bonaparte of France even though he knew it was suicide, that was living. When Mama summoned the power to rise every day and speak as though she wasn’t terminally ill and love as though life endured within her, that was living. When she was told she was going to lose all hearing, she was neither Papa nor was she Mama. But it was never too late to try to be.

“What would you say if I told you that we are going on a grand adventure? One that would take us all the way to Germany!” Rudy whispered to her excitedly.

“And what is there for us in Germany?”

Close to her ear, he whistled the tune of Lullaby. “That’s what’s there for us in Germany, Puppy. It’s what we’ve been waiting for all this time. As if our lives have led up to this point. I know it’s not much, but-”

Anneliese felt her heart surge and stutter, “Not much, Rudy? It is everything.”

While Anneliese and Rudolf Weiser arranged their great journey toward glory, just a few towns away, a man was unknowingly plotting to stop them. General Hans Kaufmann, several weeks back, began noticing suspicious irregularities at the mill. Money seemingly vanished into thin air, and the general, in hopes of impressing the sergeant major enough to get sent back to fight for the Fatherland, took it upon himself to investigate further. Kaufmann fought in all the vital battles against Napoleon, and only was sent home when he lost his left leg under the knee. Now, he stumbled around on a makeshift wooden replacement, pining over the magnificent, almost theatrical, performance that was war. The general longed to return, and although his once snow-blond hair had deepened to silver and time hadn’t spared him, he never lost that boyish enthusiasm for swords and horses, brotherhood and foreign lands. Very soon, Kaufmann began to pick up on signs: a new worker, seventeen years old; frequent disappearances; orphaned and left to raise his sister.

“Rudolf Weiser, it looks like you’re my ticket back to the battlefield. Now… where are you?”

Tulips adopted the colors of salmon, peaches, periwinkle, and fresh blackberries: ripe and plump. Tulips, tulips, tulips. As far as the eye could see. A meadow bursting with them, animated and sparkling. Anneliese and Rudy trekked for miles across the unrepressed fields of colorful bulbs. On wagon, train, and foot, Austria receded behind them as a lantern would, floating deeper into a cave, penetrating the darkness. In front of them, Switzerland materialized, making the enormity and reality of their voyage like a frigid bucket of water to the head. With each day they carried onward, Anneliese heard less and less. First, it was the finer details: the buzz of a bee performing its floral ritual, the harmony of a songbird far in the distance. Then, it became more apparent. Conversations were to be had in close proximity, and even the rumble of trains or bustling townsfolk sounded detached, as though they were someone else’s sounds to be heard, melodies to grasp. But, even as noise faded into the background for Anneliese, she looked forward to every minute she would be able to listen to Johannes Brahms on the stage. Lullaby, although she had heard variations of it all her life, would take on a new form of significance. Music is only beautiful because it is temporary, because as the symphony of light begins to dwindle out, that is when you truly start to hear it for what it really is. Something raw, something packed densely with emotion and longing. And when that final note finally ceases its orbit around your brain, that is when you are struck all at once with the meaning of life.

‘Hello! Can I help you, General?” a round-faced townswomen called out. Hans Kaufmann whirled around, in the middle of his search for the Weiser residence.

“Why, yes, I believe you can. Do you happen to know where Rudolf Weiser lives?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I’m afraid you just missed him. Rudolf left about a week ago with his sister. I recall them mentioning Germany?”

Kaufmann pondered this addition to the heap of information. “Are you aware of where they’ll be settling in Germany, ma’am?”

“I believe Anneliese said something about a composer? Started with a B? Or was it a G?”

The general, quite familiar with classical works, knew immediately of the sort. “You’ve been a great help. God bless.”

Spring seemed to have not reached the heights of Switzerland just yet, although perhaps it never would. Snowflakes descended from the heavens and rejoined their brothers and sisters: a medley of impermanent creations. The pristine crystals danced upon Anneliese’s freckled cheeks, rosy with wintry bliss. Meanwhile, Rudy plotted their travels, mapping out their every step. He furrowed his brow in frustration: a storm was rolling in.

Charcoal clouds billowed, huge and fantastic, and swelled with all the materials for a blizzard. They would soon erupt, a shower of sleet and snow and forceful winds chasing Anneliese and Rudolf, seeking to pin them down. It would keep them indoors for days on end, away from Germany, away from Brahms, away from the last chance for music before silence became her only melody.

“It’ll just be a couple of nights, Puppy. We’ll be on our way to Germany before we know it. I promise.”

Rudy cradled his sister, holding onto her as though he were holding onto the last of her hearing, all the sounds that would soon dissolve into oblivion: a void in her life that he longed to close. The pair clung to each other for warmth in the night; the fireplace in their room at the inn proved to be ineffectual. And, just when he slipped into a fragile slumber, Rudy often awoke to roaring winds and turbulent shutters. But Anneliese remained dreaming, for either her sleep was too heavy, or her hearing was too light.

Crunch, crunch. General Kaufmann paused to wheeze. In his own stubborn foolishness, he had made the decision to brave the unyielding tempest. He was a military man after all, who was he to let snow stand in the way of his only chance at redemption? A village approached, full of artful whimsy, the perfect place for a boy to provide protection for his impaired sister. Kaufmann smirked; he was a natural detective. The only step left was to find where they sought refuge.

The general had gone to about five or six inns with no luck, and his hope was beginning to deteriorate. Come on, Hans. If you can fire a cannonball that obliterates an enemy fort, you can find two children in a rather limited town. If you can kill dozens of Frenchmen, you can bring pride to your country once more. At last, at the ninth inn, Kaufmann found exactly what he was seeking. Rudolf Weiser, Room 5E. They had left in the morning, and the general was close on their heels. By nightfall, the boy would be in his hands, followed shortly by a rifle and a ride to the frontlines.

Trumpets blasted, banners of brilliant, vibrant colors unfolded, and Germany was magnificent. Alleys and streets overflowed with swarms of people laughing and yelling and living their joyous lives. Taverns roared, and men pushed and shoved each other in states of drunken madness. Anneliese and Rudy emerged from the railway station and gazed out at the vast expanse of hundreds, thousands of strangers coexisting with one another: strings entangled and wound together. In hushed voices, people on every corner spoke of Brahms. It was as though everything, everywhere, echoed, He’s here, he’s here.

Anneliese gazed at the sights in amazement; a door had been opened in her life, and Hallstatt would forever seem minuscule in comparison to what lay just beyond her line of vision. Rudy tugged her along, halting every now and again to point out something incredible: “Look, Puppy, that doughnut is as big as you!” or “You’ll never guess what I saw; I swear that painting just smiled at me!” And Anneliese would smirk at his enthusiasm, his true joy for life, and pretend she heard him. For his sake, if nothing else. Her world was fading away, and instead, a life of emptiness and desolation came crawling in to replace it.

General Hans Kaufmann stood and stretched. The train ride felt equivalent to eternity, and as he watched endless miles of fields and forests recede into the background, he wondered if he had discovered how to pause time. Everything looked the same, a bland hue of beige for what seemed to be forever. Kaufmann was anxious, and he felt as though he was back in war, waiting and waiting for the enemy to peer out from the shadows. He was itching for Germany, itching for Rudolf Weiser, itching for the army. And, at last, when the train rolled along its tracks and into the station, the general was the first to offload. He had made it; his traveling had finally come to a triumphant end. And, as Hans Kaufmann paid the required expense for a seat in the theater, he was so enveloped in his own hubris that he completely overlooked the two fiery-haired siblings, hand-in-hand, purchasing their own tickets in front of him, right under his nose.

The queue outside of the theater extended far beyond view, fading out into the distance like a group of ambitious sailors venturing into the horizon, into the radiance of the sun. Anneliese and Rudy waded with the throng of people as the line inched forward, beads of anticipation welling up inside of them. They nibbled on bits of bread and cheese to pass the time, throwing their scraps to the hovering pigeons afterward, the creatures flocking to the sacrifice as though they were vultures to the dead. The afternoon light began to dim, sinking into the sky and taking on shades of crimson and coral. Dusk settled over the glittering city of possibility and offered promises of hope and restoration. A million thoughts raced through Anneliese’s mind: In an hour I’ll see Brahms, in thirty minutes, twenty, now ten, five, three, and then the doors were opened and lights dangled like stars over the stadium of rows in a semicircle around the stage, and suddenly the Earth was spinning too fast, all at once, and it didn’t stop until Rudy put his arm around her shoulder and led her into the sun.

While everyone else was looking toward the center of the theater, admiring the set and hoping for a glimpse at the genius behind the notes, General Kaufmann was the only one looking for something else. Someone else. He recited the same line over and over to anyone who would listen: “Has anyone seen a tall, red-haired boy, seventeen years old? He’s with a girl…” More often than not, his audience ended up walking away mid-spiel, or they knew nothing of the sort. Unremorseful apologies were murmured as their carrier slipped away, leaving Kaufmann no better than before. When the lights finally went down, the general was ushered to his seat, trying to discern the heads in front of him, trying to find the one belonging to Rudolf Weiser.

All at once, a symphony of brilliance and luminosity was cast from the orchestra, cast from Brahms, and made its way to the ears of Anneliese. Rudolf watched her, took her hand, as she heard the melody he had sung so many times before. But now, she was hearing it as if it were the first time. Even though, every once in a while, the notes were lost before they could ever make their way to her, her ears deceiving her once more, Anneliese didn’t mind. Her memory filled the gaps, only these handcrafted notes appeared in her father’s rough tone, harmonizing with the grandeur of the performance. Her mind was a mosaic of melodies, of love and luster, and the realization came crashing down on her: a thousand meteors to the heart. Music would always exist within her, only in the form of her brother, in the memories of her parents, in the sun that rose every morning and the stars that winked and twinkled. Music is everywhere, enduring for ages and ages, living on in the lives of those it touches. Delicately, warm tears cascaded down her face. How lucky was she to love something so gorgeous, so impalpable? To love something that death and time and decay couldn’t lay their unforgiving finger on? And Anneliese dared her failing hearing to try and take that away.

After the performance, Kaufmann furiously scanned the crowd for Rudolf Weiser. He was here, he was definitely here. The general scoured the streets, grabbing the arm of any adolescent boy with flame-like hair. Are you Rudolf Weiser? Oh, sorry. Are you Rudolf Weiser? My apologies. He felt defeated. In this influx of people, strangers all appearing the same, there was no hope. No possible way. But… wait. Could that be? A boy grasped the arm of a girl not too far away. Had he found them? They stepped onto a train, and General Kaufmann ran, limping, calling after them.

“Wait! Halt, Weiser, halt! Please!”

Grinning widely, ecstatically, Anneliese and Rudy made their way to the train, giggling to each other and humming the glorious songs they had heard. Precariously, they hopped onto the platform, Rudy pulling his sister up to meet him, and were about to go find their seats when a faint noise echoed through the space.

“Puppy, do you hear that? I think I heard my name.”

“You’re surely mistaken, Rudy. I don’t hear anything.”

And, with that, the doors closed behind them and they began their journey home. Gliding towards the sky, away from the music and the lights and the color and the noise and General Hans Kaufmann. Joining the generations of those who open their eyes and don’t blink as they look into the sun; those who appreciate life a little bit more, love a little bit harder; those who listen beyond the notes on paper. And that is the story of Anneliese Weiser, a girl sentenced to never hear again, and how her brother saved her. Or, if you prefer, how she saved him.