ZooTown #3
Nothing. Full on quiet.
And that's when I heard her singing.
I wasn't even sure what I was hearing, at first. My first thought was someone had switched the carousel calliope back on, but straight away I could tell it was words, someone was SINGING. I almost thought maybe a car radio somewhere was turned up, but the parking lot was empty. Also - this was a voice singing without any music. I stood there on my bike, LISTENING.
It was a young woman.
Maybe a teenage girl my age. I couldn't make out any words that night, Father...but it sounded beautiful. Beautiful, and somehow...sad. But not crying sad, like when someone you love has died, or anything like that. More like...lonely. Or regretful, like how you'd feel if you had to leave behind a friend or someone you loved, even though you had to, but didn't want to.
Yeah, that's right, Father. Meloncholic. That's the word. I couldn't quite make out what she was singing, but that girl's voice vibrated with this power that sorta made your insides tingle. But it wasn't LOUD singing, Father. It wasn't like she was belting out these tunes with all her breath. It was something in the her melody. In the tone. There was power there, enough to almost make you feel sad too, but it was gentle, all the same.
My next thought was: Someone’s rehearsing on the ampitheater stage. I hadn't heard about any concerts coming up, nor had I seen any flyers around town or anything like that. Of course, that didn't mean there WASN'T a concert of some kind. Maybe someone was practicing.
Thing is, you can tell the difference between someone singing over a microphone and through speakers, or on their own. Through speakers, there's this kinda hum or reverb sound. But this didn't sound like that, Father. Crazy as it sounds, this was someone singing on their own.
So I hopped on my bike and instead of heading out onto Samara Hill, I turned right and pedaled past the concessions stand to the amphitheater. Skidded my bike to a stop at the amphitheater's top row of benches, and looked down onto the stage, and you know what?
*
"I think I know," Father Ward answered with a small smile, "but go ahead and tell me anyway."
"Empty," came the young man's voice in a breathless rush, "the stage was empty. Nobody around. And soon as my bike stopped, so did the singing."
A GHOST STORY ON ALL HALLOW'S EVE, Father Ward thought, HOW WONDERFULLY APPROPRIATE. And, given his own experiences in the past few years, not unbelievable at all.
However, he was determined to play the skeptic and suppress his enthusiasm, again not wishing to lead the young man in any on direction. "And you're sure no one was playing a car radio, or someone hadn't been there singing and then left before you got there?"
A pause, feet shuffling, and Father Ward imagined the boy shrugging. "No cars, that's for sure. Up in that parking lot, anyway. The zoo staff’s parking lot is on the other side of the park, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have heard a car radio from there. Too far away. As for leaving the stage right before I got there?"
Another pause, and then, "Well...you know how the stage looks - right, Father? With the amphitheater benches all round, leading down the stage, and how behind the stage, there's several smaller platforms for bands to prep, or when they're doing plays, for props and stage exits?"
"I haven't been out there since I came home," Father Ward confessed, "but I remember, yes."
"Well you know, then, about how there's only a few ways down to the stage. There's three aisles running through the benches down to the stage. There's a wooden walkway to the far right - which is used by bands and actors and such - that loops behind some trees and bushes, and leads to the main stage and support stages from behind. If it was summer and the trees full of leaves, maybe whoever - honestly, it sounded like a she, Father - was singing could've been hiding on that wooden walkway behind the trees, but all the leaves are down now, father. Could see right through them, and I didn't see anyone.
"But I don't know. Maybe I missed them, though I don't know why anyone would go hiding like that after they were singing. Only thing I could think of is maybe they weren't supposed to be on that platform, and were afraid of getting in trouble or something, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense, because while they lock up the gates to the zoo, they don't lock the amphitheater’s gates. I dunno. Anyway...that was just the start of it, Father. Lot more happened after which explained some things, but also made more questions."
Father Ward couldn't help but smile. "In my experience, the best and most worthwhile answers always raise more questions, son. What did you do next?"
"Well, I couldn't help but sit there just a little longer and look around. I'm weird that way, Father. Not only do I like to sit and listen, I like to look and SEE, y'know? I mean, REALLY see..."
*
...so I sat there for a minute and really looked at the amphitheater for a few minutes, to see what I could see. I think looking and REALLY seeing things is a lot like really listening and HEARING, Father. We don't really take the time to do it, anymore. Just too busy going places, I suppose. Ever read DANDELION WINE, by Ray Bradbury? Yeah, I love it, too. Wish things still moved as slow as they did back when that novel was set.
Anyway, I sat there, straddling my bike, taking it all in. The gray and weathered wooden benches, aisles, and the stage itself. The big green spread of the forest behind it. The darkening night sky.
It was there I first sensed it, Father. What I've sensed more and more this whole week. That I was looking right at something I couldn't quite see, if that makes any sense. Like something that flickers in the corner of your eye, and when you turn and look for it...nothing's there. Or maybe a picture that's been overdeveloped, and it looks like there's a picture right beneath the one you're looking at, but you just can't quite see...
But it started getting dark, fast. Don't know if I was just caught up looking at things and trying to see whatever was there, of if maybe I was hoping that singing would start in again. Whichever, I figured it had been twenty minutes since Brian took off, which meant it was about seven-twenty, and it'd take me at least fifteen minutes to bike home to the parsonage next to the Baptist Church, where Dad and I live. Which meant I probably wouldn't get there until around 7:45, and then Dad would let me have for it staying out near to dark, the night before church, of all nights.
And by "let me have it" I mean lecture me in a dry, monotone voice until I was ready to cry "Uncle." Dad did everything quiet, sternly, with this real strict sense of...what's the word, Father? How people act and talk, how the carry themselves? Right, decorum. That's real big with Dad. He's always under control, y'know? Never yells or screams, just always lectures in that same tone of voice. Never seems to get excited about anything, or even really happy, honestly. Actually, the only time I've seen him happy, lately? When he's planning one of his big faith revivals.
You haven't heard about those? How long have you been home? Oh, about three years. That makes sense, I suppose. Dad's last revival - about not drinking and all - got lots of folks riled up, so the Town Board basically told him to cool it. Don't know if they threatened to give him the boot, but he quieted up a lot, hasn't talked about a revival since then.
Until this year, that is. Guess what's got a bug up his ass this year? Yep, his old standby, Halloween. The Devil's Night. The whole month of October, he's been talking about it. How he was going to hold a special Halloween service. How he was bringing in special "experts on debunking the pagan holiday that's become a national pastime."
Honest to God, Father - and I'm not taking the Lord's name in vain, I hope, cause I'm serious about being honest to God - I think I've seen him smile more in the past month than I have in the past year, all because he's decided this year he's throwing down with Halloween. It makes me feel so mixed up inside, y'know? One minute, I'm sorta happy to see him smiling, instead of looking all somber and sad like he does most the time. The next, I realize he's smiling because he’s planning on preaching against Halloween and all its "tempting evils," and then I get to feeling mean inside.
Of course, I was a bit wrong about his plans, Father. Thinking he was just gonna whip up some holy brimstone and hellfire and preach about the evils of trick or treating and wearing costumes and celebrating Halloween. Turns out, he had way more planned than just a Halloween night sermon.
Way more.
