Sing, Sarah!

At six thirty am, Sarah Holinquist was running late. She quickly kissed the Juliard Voice poster above her bed, jumped into her mom's Sentra and headed for her dream, her audition.

At six thirty-seven, an eighteen-wheeler from Boston was trying to make up for lost time after being parked during night in a noreaster. The driver had not had more than six hours of sleep in the past three days. He never saw the white Sentra.

At six fifty-two, Sarah was rushed into the ER. After being stablized, she was taken into surgery, where she remained for the next 5 hours.

At one fourty-five, Sarah woke. Startled by her surroundings , she jolted up in bed and cried out for her mother. But where her voice should be, there was only silence.



At one fourty-six, the dream was gone.



Outside the rain ran down the window. Sarah leaned here face against the window, letting her cheek rest against the cold glass. I'm suppose to be happy, she though, I'm going home, but she just couldn't bring herself to be. So she sat in the back seat of the car, silent. Silent now, as she would always be. Horrible, empty silence, longing to be filled with the sounds of song, but not by her.

She couldn't recall how long she had been in the hospital, the days and nights seemed to blur together into one all consuming stretch of samnitized sheets and walls, until she couldn't remember what it was like to not be in the hospital. And somehow that made her want to stay. She didn't want to remember what it was like outside that hospital. She didn't want to remember what she had lost. But she couldn't hide forever, and so home she went. The house seemed like it was much emptier now. Silent and oppersive, but still the same old house where she and her mom lived. Her father had died years ago. He sang for the Metropolitain Opera.



"Would you like anything to eat or drink?" her mother asked, " I know how awful that hospital food can be, especially when you're reduced to jello......"



Her mom trailed off. Sarah just shook her head with the only answer she could give and went to her room. There loomed the Juliard Voice poster, keeping a silent vigil in her room. The poster she had so long adored, now mocked her.

'MUTE', it cried, then swallowed the room with the insane laughter that was silence. And all her rage and all her despair boiled up into one simple action, and with one clean sweep she ripped the poster from the wall and tore into a thousand tiny peices. Then, in a sobbing heap, she cried herself to sleep.

Sarah went back to school, reluctantly, a few weeks later. Her mother had suggested she go to a special school with other kids like her, but Sarah had insisted upon returning to her old school. She had dreaded facing her friends in such a state, but knew she need them now more than ever. At first, things were a little akward at school, people weren't sure how to act around her, and she wasn't sure how to act around them.