...of the final judgement

Ling bowed silently, because he knew no one was allowed to speak before the priests masked for the New Year's celebration, or at the final judgement which concludes each human life. Esel was also silent, intimidated by the five shamans who would soon either grant her solemn reward or announce her final punishment. Pablo was astonished to find himself facing a tribunal, for he had never believed that punishment or reward awaited men after death.

No one spoke or moved and the silence soon became intolerable. Pablo stared at the five judges, waiting for a gesture or a word. But these five figures were totally devoid of expression, enclosed in their masks. The one in the middle was sitting on a raised platform higher than the others, perhaps he was the chief magistrate. His arm was resting on an enormous leather-bound book of parchment. His marble-like mask reminded Pablo of an ancient fountain, and for a moment he half-expected to see a jet of water gush forth from the judge's mouth. The chairs of the two figures sitting beside him were placed on a lower platform. One of them was wearing a yellow Chinese mask with a drooping black moustache, while the other wore an African mask with big lips. The masks were quite cheap looking, made of papier-mache, like children's carnival masks. The chair of the fourth was still lower. His face was hidden behind a ruddy Santa Claus mask, with puffy cheeks and a beard and moustache of cotton wool. He reminded Pablo of snow, fireplaces, Christmas trees and lighted candles. On the other side of Santa Claus sat the last judge, in a handsome scarlet mask made of some shiny, expensive material. The sunken cheeks and tightly drawn features of his mask created a most disturbing effect. Pablo felt afraid as he contemplated these five judges: their immobility, their silence, their very existence were bewildering, absurd. He was frightened, for he could not decide whether they were giant puppets which he could easily knock over with one blow, or supernatural beings of great power. Were they really here to pass sentence? Then why were they silent? Pablo could resist no longer.

[The White Book, Scanziani, P.]

- submitted by Pearce, M A.

...of Seth

Seth felt himself wrapped in a silence so dense it oppressed his chest. The little girl at his side was staring at Abel, her mouth twisted in a grimace of fear. Seth could not bear to look at him for long and sought in vain for something else to look at to break the spell. He stared at his own shadow, and then at a couple of deer grazing calmly in their pen, remote from the silence which had invaded the world. But his eyes returned all by themselves to Abel's body.

[The White Book, Scanziani, P.]

- submitted by Pearce, M A.

...of The Creator

Adam and Eve found themselves outside Eden, beyond the four rivers. God had just fallen silent. The reverberation of his voice hung in the air and the hearts of His creatures were trembling with fear. Adam and Eve listened as the echo slowly died away in the vast luminosity of the sky, muted by the endless forests which covered the earth. Their fear subsided as the echo faded. In the deep silence they could hear the sound of a river. Adam said, 'Let's go back to Eden. Now He is silent.'

[The White Book, Scanziani, P.]

- submitted by Pearce, M.A.

...of a rift

That day, a Saturday, was a horrible day. They didn't leave the house. In Kate's room, hardly speaking, they played draughts and Monopoly and Rickety Ann and Switch and Racing Demon. She hated the silence and felt subdued by it, and in the end defeated. When she tried to be cheerful she ended up flustered and red-faced, clammy all over. At lunch-time in the kitchen she tried to cover the silence up by chattering about anything that came into her head, but her chattering made the silence more obvious. Stephen didn't say a single word. Mrs Blakey became worried, and it showed.

[The Children of Dynmouth, Trevor, W.]

...of reticence

'Poor Miss Poraway,' Quentin said as they washed the tea dishes, and Lavinia - not feeling agreeably disposed towards Miss Poraway - did not say anything. She wished she could only she was sorry now, not in the middle of the night when he was asleep. It wasn't his fault; he did his best. It wasn't easy for him, all those women bickering and only a handful of people out of Dynmouth's thousands ever setting foot in his church, and Mr Peniket sighing over the decline of church life. She wished she could say she knew she was being difficult and edgy, taking it out on him because she'd been denied another child. But although she tried to speak, actually tried to form words and force them out of her mouth, no words came. They washed and dried in silence, and then the twins appeared with lemon cake all over them.

[The Children of Dynmouth, Trevor, W.]

...of a whole school

He walked with Miss Tomm back to the school, carrying his pyjamas and dressing-gown and slippers. They would be late for breakfast, he said, because the bell had stopped ringing more than a minute ago. Mr Deccles had promised it wouldn't matter, Miss Tomm said, and when they entered the dining-hall together he knew that the Craw had told the whole school what had happened. There was a silence when they entered the dining-hall, which continued while Miss Tomm went to the sideboard where the cornflakes were given out, while he himself pushed to his place.

The boys at his table looked at him, and although talk had begun again at other tables the boys at his remained silent. Quiet-Now Simpson, who was at the head of the table, didn't know what to say.

[The Children of Dynmouth, Trevor, W.]

...of ruminating

The train rushed through the dismal afternoon, the silence between them had an edge to it. Stephen was often silent, but she knew he was thinking now of their parent' marriage, and wondering about it. Two facts made it possible: the divorce of her own parents and the death of his mother. The divorce had happened before she or Stephen could remember. Now and again her father came back to Dynmouth, or to see her at St Cecilia's, but the visits made her unhappy because his presence caused her to sense the trouble, and the pain there'd been. She couldn't help not liking him, sensing as well that it was he who had been cruel, that he had deserted her mother for the wife he was now married to.

[The Children of Dynmouth, Trevor, W.]