The boy who counted silence

 


Experimental Short Story Series #55
Title: The Boy Who Counted Silence
By Faraz Parvez (Pen name of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal, Former Faculty, Umm Al Qura University, Makkah, KSA)
Blog: farazparvez1.blogspot.com

In a wind-beaten orphanage by the salt flats, there lived a boy who never spoke. No one knew his real name. They just called him “Mute”—a word spat more than spoken. But silence wasn’t his weakness. It was his gift.

He couldn’t say “yes” or “no,” “stop” or “go,” but he could hear everything that wasn’t said. When Sister Miriam laughed too brightly, he heard her sorrow. When boys lied about stolen bread, he counted the guilt clinging to their breath. And in the silence between dinner bells and lights-out prayers, he began to count.

Not time.
Not words.
But truths.

Silence #1: The cook wept when peeling onions—not from the sting, but from memory.
Silence #27: The girl who slept near the furnace believed the stars were dead souls blinking.
Silence #143: Sister Miriam once tried to run away as a child too.

He counted them all, stored them like coins. Silence, to him, was not emptiness. It was echo.

One stormy evening, a tall man arrived—coat soaked, eyes unreadable. He claimed to be adopting one child. All the children lined up, scrubbed clean, faces frozen into desperate smiles. The mute boy stood last, unblinking.

The man asked questions. Names, dreams, favorite colors. The children lied. The man smiled.

But when he came to the mute boy, he asked nothing. Just stared.
Silence bloomed.

And the boy heard it: a storm beneath his ribs. Not thunder—but memory.
Silence #2651: “I knew your mother.”
Silence #2652: “I was the one who left you here.”

The boy didn't cry. He simply nodded. One sharp, certain nod.
The man knelt. “Do you want to come home?”

The boy placed a hand on the man’s chest. Felt the truth thump like a wound trying to heal.

Then he whispered—his first word in years.
“No.”

He turned and walked back inside, barefoot, silent. Behind him, the door creaked shut, echoing with all the silences he had ever counted—and one new one:

Silence #2653: The moment a boy chose to stay lost rather than be found by the wrong man.

Why We Tell These Stories
This 55th entry in our Experimental Short Story Series reminds us that words are not the only measure of meaning. Silence can be a language. A shield. A sword.

Your support—dear readers—turns every post into a home for the strange, the spiritual, the surreal. As we move toward our landmark 60th entry, stay close. A special curated print collection is on the horizon.

These tales aren’t just to read. They’re to be felt.

Read. Reflect. Return.
Tomorrow, another silence may speak. Another door may open. Another truth might wait between the lines.

Blog: farazparvez1.blogspot.com
Author: Prof. Dr. Arshad Afzal
Former Faculty Member, Umm Al Qura University, Makkah, KSA


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The rise and fall of imran Khan niazi... A satirical essay

Image
  The Rise and Fall of Imran Khan Niazi: From The Establishment’s Golden Boy to The Fallen Messiah Written by Faraz Parvez Pen Name of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal Former Faculty Member, Umm Al-Qura University, Makkah, KSA There are few figures in contemporary politics as paradoxical as Imran Khan Niazi. A man whose political career reads like a tragicomedy, a cricketing hero who tried to bowl out corruption but ended up hitting his own wickets. Once the beloved poster boy of the establishment, now the self-styled revolutionary with a martyr complex—his journey is the stuff of a Shakespearean farce, with generous doses of slapstick and irony. The Saviour Who Needed Saving Once upon a time, Imran Khan was the chosen one . The establishment cradled him like a newborn prince, whispering sweet nothings of ‘Naya Pakistan’ into his ears. He was the hero with an Oxford degree, a World Cup trophy, and a playboy past that magically transformed into Islamic piety overnight. The masses, ...
Read more

The dying whispers of bhera haveli

Image
  Title: “The Dying Whispers of Bhera Haveli” Theme: In a forgotten corner of Punjab, where time stopped and shadows moved without reason, a cursed haveli holds a horrifying secret. What happens when someone hears the whispers that should have stayed buried? By Faraz Parvez Professor Dr. (Retired) Arshad Afzal Retired Faculty Member, Umm Al-Qura University, Makkah, KSA (Pseudonym of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal) The Dying Whispers of Bhera Haveli Based on chilling oral tales from the subcontinent's dust-ridden ruins... In the neglected outskirts of Bhera , an ancient town once glorious in its Mughal past, there stands a crumbling haveli, twisted like a half-dead serpent among the eucalyptus and sheesham trees. The villagers call it “Khooni Haveli”—The Mansion of Blood. No one lives there. No one dares to enter. Except Tariq. He was a small-time real estate broker from Faisalabad. He dealt in disputed lands and run-down buildings, flipping ghost stories into desperate...
Read more

The evolution of the modern Urdu novel

Image
  The Evolution of the Modern Urdu Novel: A Literary Renaissance Urdu literature, with its rich poetic heritage and profound storytelling traditions, has continuously evolved to reflect the changing landscapes of South Asia and beyond. While Urdu poetry has long been celebrated for its lyrical beauty, it is the Urdu novel that has captured the essence of social, political, and psychological transformations over the past century. From the didactic realism of Deputy Nazir Ahmed to the avant-garde narratives of Mirza Athar Baig , the Urdu novel has transformed from a medium of moral instruction to an art form that challenges political structures, psychological paradigms, and literary conventions . Today, Urdu novelists are addressing themes of globalization, migration, gender dynamics, and existentialism , making the Urdu novel an indispensable part of world literature. From Classic to Contemporary: A Shifting Paradigm The birth of the Urdu novel can be traced back to the 1...
Read more