Terry Forster
THE CAT SOUND
As I casually walked along the riverside one sunny Sunday afternoon I heard a distant sound, it was a mournful eyrie sound as though some poor animal was in dire distress and the hairs on my arms stood out in nervous alarm. I quickened my pace, my eyes quickly searching to the left and right for a wounded animal but I could see nothing that had caused that mournful sound. I hastened my steps until I was almost running and then I saw something on a grass verge through the trees to my Left.
"Leave him alone" I yelled at the top of my voice, the bullies stopped their onslaught on the young boy and looked in my direction.
"You are a stupid idiot" said the bigger of the two bullies as he pushed the young boy down onto the ground. The other bully ran around the boy and kicked him as hard as he could in his back. The young boy was shaking all over and he curled up into a ball trying to shield his face from the kicks. He looked as though he was crying but there was no sound coming from him.
I ran as fast as I possibly could toward the boy picking up large stones as I ran and hurled them one after the other at the two bullies until they backed off the young boy.
"‘You’re a freak, you know that, a freak, a big eared creep" said the older looking boy as he grabbed his accomplice by his coat collar and backed off the young boy.
I was shaking like a leaf in anger at the bullies and what they were doing to the young boy when the smaller bully ran to the young boy and kicked him again. I threw the last stone I had in my hand at them before both bullies ran off laughing at what they had done.
There came a sound from the young boy on the ground that I will never ever forget, it was the eyrie sound I had heard earlier, the sound of a wounded animal, a cat with that long mournful cry a cat would make when It was badly hurt and about to die. The boy lay motionless on the ground, there was no sign of movement from him and I thought he was dead.
I lifted the boy from the ground and cradled him in my arms as if he was my own son, his face was wet with tears and he started making erratic movements with his hands. I asked him where he lived and he pointed with his shaking finger to a house at the edge of the river just a short distance from where we were standing. He was quite heavy but my natural instinct to help someone who is injured was overpowering.
"When we reached his home his sister told me that her brother was deaf and dumb but that he was not so dumb like the two bullies had said. He was a very smart boy but he could not say or hear anything. I told her that he did make a sound when the bully kicked him in the back. She told me that I must be mistaken because all her brother's vocal cords had been removed during surgery many years ago. The boy made one of his hand signs at me as I was about to leave and I said to his sister,
"If your brother is so smart then why is he doing things like that with his hands?"
She told me that he was saying that he loved me with his hands because I had saved him from the bullies. I didn't say anything back to her at all because I didn't believe her. People can't talk with their hands and everybody knows that people can only talk with their mouthes.
Almost every Sunday for the next few years I would see the boy sitting on a swing in his garden when I walked along the riverbank. He always smiled at me and made that same funny hand sign as I walked past the wooden fence surrounding his garden.
My wife had decided many years ago that we should sell our four bed roomed house and purchase a three bed roomed bungalow with a smaller garden, she was partly disabled and it would be easier for her to move around in. It would be also cheaper on heating and their was no stairs she had to climb and therefore easier in our old age. Eventually we found the bungalow we desired and the time had now come to transfer our in house furnishings to the new property. I didn’t really want to leave as I loved the area, the riverside and would miss all my friends.
I was taking my last walk along the riverbank on the Sunday afternoon and I saw the deaf mute boy again sitting there in his usual place on his swing in the garden just looking at me and making those signs to me.
The boy, now about twelve, jumped off his swing and ran across his garden, placed his hands onto the wooden fence and just stood there looking at me. All I could hear from him the entire time was the high pitched sound like a cat as it suffered in pain. As I walked away I saw the deaf boy make the signs to me with his hands once again and then loosen his grip on the fence and slide very slowly to the ground and bury his face into the leaves that had fallen from the tree standing at the fence. That is when I realized that he probably really did love me as his sister had told me all those years ago. For some reason the thought flashed through my mind that he knew I was leaving the riverside and he wanted to save me because he thought that I too was making the cat sound as I didn’t really want to leave the riverside.
THE CAT SOUND
As I casually walked along the riverside one sunny Sunday afternoon I heard a distant sound, it was a mournful eyrie sound as though some poor animal was in dire distress and the hairs on my arms stood out in nervous alarm. I quickened my pace, my eyes quickly searching to the left and right for a wounded animal but I could see nothing that had caused that mournful sound. I hastened my steps until I was almost running and then I saw something on a grass verge through the trees to my Left.
"Leave him alone" I yelled at the top of my voice, the bullies stopped their onslaught on the young boy and looked in my direction.
"You are a stupid idiot" said the bigger of the two bullies as he pushed the young boy down onto the ground. The other bully ran around the boy and kicked him as hard as he could in his back. The young boy was shaking all over and he curled up into a ball trying to shield his face from the kicks. He looked as though he was crying but there was no sound coming from him.
I ran as fast as I possibly could toward the boy picking up large stones as I ran and hurled them one after the other at the two bullies until they backed off the young boy.
"‘You’re a freak, you know that, a freak, a big eared creep" said the older looking boy as he grabbed his accomplice by his coat collar and backed off the young boy.
I was shaking like a leaf in anger at the bullies and what they were doing to the young boy when the smaller bully ran to the young boy and kicked him again. I threw the last stone I had in my hand at them before both bullies ran off laughing at what they had done.
There came a sound from the young boy on the ground that I will never ever forget, it was the eyrie sound I had heard earlier, the sound of a wounded animal, a cat with that long mournful cry a cat would make when It was badly hurt and about to die. The boy lay motionless on the ground, there was no sign of movement from him and I thought he was dead.
I lifted the boy from the ground and cradled him in my arms as if he was my own son, his face was wet with tears and he started making erratic movements with his hands. I asked him where he lived and he pointed with his shaking finger to a house at the edge of the river just a short distance from where we were standing. He was quite heavy but my natural instinct to help someone who is injured was overpowering.
"When we reached his home his sister told me that her brother was deaf and dumb but that he was not so dumb like the two bullies had said. He was a very smart boy but he could not say or hear anything. I told her that he did make a sound when the bully kicked him in the back. She told me that I must be mistaken because all her brother's vocal cords had been removed during surgery many years ago. The boy made one of his hand signs at me as I was about to leave and I said to his sister,
"If your brother is so smart then why is he doing things like that with his hands?"
She told me that he was saying that he loved me with his hands because I had saved him from the bullies. I didn't say anything back to her at all because I didn't believe her. People can't talk with their hands and everybody knows that people can only talk with their mouthes.
Almost every Sunday for the next few years I would see the boy sitting on a swing in his garden when I walked along the riverbank. He always smiled at me and made that same funny hand sign as I walked past the wooden fence surrounding his garden.
My wife had decided many years ago that we should sell our four bed roomed house and purchase a three bed roomed bungalow with a smaller garden, she was partly disabled and it would be easier for her to move around in. It would be also cheaper on heating and their was no stairs she had to climb and therefore easier in our old age. Eventually we found the bungalow we desired and the time had now come to transfer our in house furnishings to the new property. I didn’t really want to leave as I loved the area, the riverside and would miss all my friends.
I was taking my last walk along the riverbank on the Sunday afternoon and I saw the deaf mute boy again sitting there in his usual place on his swing in the garden just looking at me and making those signs to me.
The boy, now about twelve, jumped off his swing and ran across his garden, placed his hands onto the wooden fence and just stood there looking at me. All I could hear from him the entire time was the high pitched sound like a cat as it suffered in pain. As I walked away I saw the deaf boy make the signs to me with his hands once again and then loosen his grip on the fence and slide very slowly to the ground and bury his face into the leaves that had fallen from the tree standing at the fence. That is when I realized that he probably really did love me as his sister had told me all those years ago. For some reason the thought flashed through my mind that he knew I was leaving the riverside and he wanted to save me because he thought that I too was making the cat sound as I didn’t really want to leave the riverside.