Flash Fiction Friday 146: The Sound Of Light. 678 words.

This one plays on a head canon that I know I share with a couple other readers/writers, that Virgil has synesthesia, the ability to experience one of your senses through another sense.


All his boys were unique, from the second they could string sounds together and the moment they could walk they proved it.

Scott reached for the sky the very moment he could see it, jumped from the second he could stand.

John was much the same, only his gaze went further. He was the questioner, always needing to know why.

Gordon was special in how different he was to his brothers. While the older three all looked to the sky in some form, he looked to the water.

Little Alan was too young to be looking anywhere yet, but he looked set to follow the eldest two into the skies and beyond.

But Virgil. Virgil was unique in so many ways.

Virgil had inherited his mother's creativity. Even from the very start his art was astounding. His music was just as breath-taking. He was as questioning as John and as active (almost) as Scott.

But it wasn't until Jeff had come back from his first trip to Alfie Virgil had been born that he realised just how special.

That first day he was back he didn't have the usual questions from Scott. The now eight-year-old was a veteran of his father's trips and once they had hugged he'd gone off to help his Mom in the kitchen. John eyed his father but left him until later – he'd get his questions in that night when Jeff tucked him in. Gordon and Alan, at 3 and 1, were just pleased to see him.

Virgil revelled in the opportunity to have his Dad all to himself.

He perched on his father's knee, brown eyes wide and expression just drinking in while Jeff talked about what he saw in the ship, in space and on the moon. And then he asked a question that Jeff had no idea how to answer.

'Daddy, what does light sound like in space?'

'Well, Virgil, umm…technically, light doesn't have any sound.'

'Sure it does, Daddy.'

Jeff stared at his middle child.

'What – what does light sound like to you, Virgil?'

'It depends on the colour of it.'

'I see. Go on.'

'Sunlight is yellow. Yellow sounds like middle C.'

Huh. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but Virgil was very earnest.

'So what does light in space sound like?'

'Well, what sound does the dark make, son?'

'Darkness sounds like the muted trumpet playing B flat.'

'Ok. Now imagine that is the only sound you can hear other than your breathing and your heartbeat.'

Virgil closed his eyes and imagined. Only his breathing, his heartbeat and the muted trumpet.

Jeff watched while trying to work out how his five-year-old knew what a muted trumpet sounded like…

'Ok, Daddy. I can hear it.'

'Do you think you can play it?'

'Sure!'

Virgil slid off Jeff's lap and climbed on the piano stool. He sat for a moment, and Jeff lent forward, curious as to what he would play.

He started softly. A simple tune, sombre in some kind of way – minor key his all-but-forgotten music lessons told him – and he recognised the transition from minor to major key with one hand.

For a five-year-old, his son had such talent. He couldn't stretch even half an octave, but to be able to play with both hands, a minor repetitive beat with his left hand while the right played a simple melody that somehow tugged at his heart…a small part of him wondered if Virgil would be even better than Lucy.

He recognised the left beating out a heartbeat while the right rose up and down like breathing.

Jeff wasn't sure how long Virgil played. The tune was forever and yet over too quickly. At some point the rest of the family had gathered to listen, so it must have been some time. He looked at the faces of his family, all entranced by Virgil's music.

At the end Virgil's face was shining and they whooped and clapped as the boy blushed. Jeff strode over and picked him up, hugging him tightly.

'That's what light sounds like, Daddy.'