Mother (another fragment)

It started as a deep, almost imperceptible bass vibration. You would think of a landslide, or a faraway earthquake, except that it grew very slowly, ever regular and subdued, and at times it almost seemed to disappear.

It didn't. It merged into the background, fused with the silence of the night, and you wouldn't realize there was a sound at all, so steady and all-pervading it had become. Until it was too loud, too powerful, too near to ignore, and the ground, the house and your very body began to vibrate in tune.

Monica approached the open window. Could this be what Father had told her? Had they left their mountain valleys, migrating once more after all these years? It seemed so. Vague shadows semmed to glimmer at the end of the street, beyond the lights and far below the starlit sky. Were they so short, so small? Maybe she had them wrong; after all she had been a little girl when  she first knew about them, and she was a grown woman now.

Almost a grown woman, she told herself, though it would have to do. Lesson learned: the Universe won't wait for you to grow up at your own comfortable pace. Oh, yes! Lesson learned, or you fail. The Universe doesn't much care. She had ample proof of that.

The house shook, fast and low. Monica grabbed at the windowsill, mostly for comfort. There was no real danger, she knew; this had happened many times before across the years, and no one had ever been harmed, no structure had failed. It was merely a weirdness, but so strong, so inescapable, that it seemed impossible that the world would be untouched by their passing.

Now they were near. Monica could see their shapes as they walked, with rhythm and purpose. Yes, they were very small, and dark, and carried themselves low to the ground. Some carried packs, others pulled little carts. They must number many tens of thousands, and soon they covered the street from end to end. The vibration was overwhelming, the silence more so.

And then they were gone. In orderly procession they marched past, and disappeared around the curve. For several long minutes she could sense them, until the world was once more still and only a shivering memory remained. Too still, the world, she now realized, too silent and too full of memories.

Had this been a wake-up call? She didn't believe in signs and portents, only in hard facts, but even hard facts can point somewhere and tell you something you hadn't realized. Maybe she should do something about the silence that had become her world.

Monica left the window and snapped a cup of coffee. There would be no more sleep tonight.