The October Music: Second Verse - Day 15

Shout
It is so hard, sometimes, to have one’s voice heard in the crowd. The bustling din and the conversations and simple noise overwhelm one person trying to be present. Often, the only way to make one’s presence known is to yell and try to get above the commotion. With that comes other consequences, though. A person runs the risk of distracting others from their lives. A person could be seen as rude. A bother, in fact.

This was the dilemma of Mitchell Boynton. He did not like interfering with others. Had a crippling fear of doing so, actually. He worried about making himself heard and inconveniencing someone else in any possible way. His entire life, he had been told to keep his voice down and to let others speak. He had been told not to raise his voice because it was rude and dangerous. Rude, he understood. Dangerous, less so, but he was nothing if not obedient.

It was a Thursday morning in September when Mitchell Boynton found out why he needed to be a church mouse. He had gone out to get his favorite breakfast – an everything bagel with plain cream cheese and a medium latte with a swirl of caramel – and was looking forward to sitting at home, reading through the stories of the day, and enjoying his meal. However, he had left five minutes later than he usually did. As a result, the sidewalks were packed with commuters and businesspeople struggling to get to work in a timely fashion.

Mitchell was bumped and knocked around, but he kept his cool. Don’t make waves, he remembered. Let people be people. They have their own lives, after all. All the maxims drilled into him since he was little came to mind and calmed him. It was when a businessman went above and beyond the call of rudeness and took his meal from his hands, half-heartedly throwing back a ‘thanks for the food’ as he walked away, taking a bite of Mitchell’s bagel.

Mitchell called after him, but no response. He called a bit louder and the windows shook. The man didn’t turn around. Then Mitchell did the one thing he had been taught never to do: he yelled.

A blast of something tore from his throat and raced down the sidewalk, obliterating everything in its path. Windows shattered. People shattered. Blood and flesh burst and rained down as the shout ripped through humanity and metal alike. The ‘Hey!’ that had come unbidden to Mitchell shredded the mass of people ahead of him and struck the back of the breakfast thief. The man froze in his tracks before he was lifted into the air. He did not move as he was taken apart piece by piece. Fingers, toes, hands, feet, legs, bones, nerves, muscles. Every single component that made him a person was pulled a different direction before he splattered to the sidewalk, a pile of meat.
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In the carnage, Mitchell walked forward and picked up his meal. And smiled.