1Ashley Elizabeth Jordan

Mr. Farley

Creative Writing

23 February 2007

The Search for Silence- The Story of Shiloah

From the beginning of Shiloah’s life there were screams. The screams from the bedroom of his intoxicated mother, Rebecca, at her older cousin’s black-out party echoed. The screams from the mouth of Rebecca’s older sister as she saw the result of the home pregnancy test echoed. The scream Rebecca’s mother bellowed when she told her daughter to leave and never come back echoed. The scream his seventeen-year-old mother made nine months later as she brought him into the world echoed. The scream of Shiloah as he took his first breath and stepped into a world where he would seek silence would last forever.

He spent his childhood in Philadelphia in a small studio apartment with Rebecca, who struggled with an income. She brought him with her six days a week at the local restaurant, where she worked. No one minded his presence. The baby had big brown eyes and a dark patch of fuzz on his head. Judging from the tan of his skin compared to his mothers pale complexion, his father was of Hispanic descent. He never really cried as an infant, except for an occasional faint whimper when he was hungry or needed a new diaper. Shiloah did not speak his first word until after his third birthday. The doctor’s could not find anything physically wrong with him; he was just quiet.

When he entered kindergarten, his mother’s fears vanished. He was perfectly literate. In fact, he was the top of his class. He never got into fights with the other children. Shiloah was a perfectly normal little boy. On finger-painting day, they had to draw their families. He understood it perfectly well. He made stick-figure Rebecca and stick-figure Shiloah holding hands. It was different from everyone else’s, but it was still his prized work of art. As far as anyone could tell, it was going to be smooth sailing for Shiloah for the rest of his childhood.

Two months into his first grade year, however, Shiloah made a big change. His mother did not know whether to be pleased or worried. He had found his voice. He spoke all the time, and he hardly ever seemed to need sleep. The once A-student was now easily distracted. His once beautiful writing was now scrambled; his thoughts raced. The biggest change of all was the change he made from a once agreeable child to a rebellious tyrant. He pushed kids in the hallways, yelled at the teachers, and ran around the classroom. He was in and out of the principal’s office more than everyone else in his grade put together. One of the students he tried bullying was Marc Blackman, a third grader who got into just as much trouble in school as Shiloah. Marc pushed him back. The two became close friends.

Marc and Shiloah sat in the school yard before school one day cutting off the braids of all the little girls that passed by them. Found beside a pile of long, braided hair, the two boys were suspended. During his three days out of school, Shiloah had another mood swing. Suddenly, he stopped eating and sleeping all together. Everything made him tired and agitated. He cried enough tears to fill the Delaware River that ran past his school. Once again, he plunged into silence.

His mood swings continued throughout his elementary school life. No one knew what was wrong with him, and he was just left as a lost cause. Marc’s friends became his family as he spent more and more time with them. By the time he was in the fifth grade, his two best friends, Marc and Pedro, were seventh graders. They were his brothers.

Between her two jobs, Rebecca has hardly any time to chase eleven-year-old Shiloah around. Often, he just stayed at Marc’s house. Marc lived with his married parents, who were both psychiatrists, in a nice house right outside Philadelphia. Shiloah loved it there, and Marc’s parents adored Shiloah. Because Marc was an only child, he began to call Shiloah “little brother.” Finally, Shiloah felt accepted. As he opened up to Marc’s parents, they grew increasingly alarmed. Marc’s mother had suspicions that he had a mental disorder. However, there was little she could do for Shiloah except for offer him what she had to give.

One night, the boys stayed at Pedro’s apartment. With his parents asleep, they decided to experiment with the alcohol they found in the cabinet above the kitchen sink. Half a bottle of Malibu later, the boys could hardly stand up straight. They went back to Pedro’s room, laughing and telling jokes. Shiloah did not feel happy, though. He felt sick. After he threw up, the older boys laughed and helped him change. As they pulled one of Pedro’s old shirts over his head, Shiloah screamed. He felt like they were trying to kill him. As he kicked and screamed, Pedro’s bewildered parents stumbled groggily into the room.

His parents called Shiloah’s mother and Marc’s parents. Shiloah’s mother did not answer, but Marc’s parents brought him back to their house. After the boys slept past noon, Marc’s mother woke them up. In the middle of her speech on right versus wrong, the phone rang. It was Pedro’s mother. As she held the phone to her ear, Mrs. Blackman began to cry. Marc and Shiloah looked at each other confused. Getting off the phone, she ran to Shiloah’s side and tearfully told him that his mother was hit by a car and had passed away. Shiloah did not cry or ask any questions; he simply stared back at her blankly.

Shiloah stayed at Marc’s house for two weeks after the death of his mother. He hardly ate or slept, and did not shed a tear or speak a word, even at his mother’s funeral. After records were checked and lawyers were called, the state established that Marietta Emerson, Rebecca’s older sister, was to take custody of Shiloah. She lived in New York City. The news was followed by a tearful farewell from the Blackman family and a one-way ticket to New York for Shiloah.

His introduction to his new family was far from pleasant. Though his Aunt Marietta and Uncle Hampton were full of smiles and hugs, Shiloah pulled away from them. They were not the finger-paint drawing of his family he had made in kindergarten, and he was not used to it. His young cousins, Annabelle and Juliana, were loud and playful. Marietta was always dressed as though she were going off to a royal ball. Hampton often spoke of politics and the stock market. Shiloah missed his simple life in Philadelphia. For the first time, Shiloah realized that he was very different. Not only his emotions were the complete opposite of his new family, but he looked different. His skin, eyes, and hair were dark; It contrasted the pale, blonde-hair, blue-eyed family. His mother’s complexion was just as fair as his aunt’s, he just had not noticed.

There was only one thing Shiloah had in common with New York City: He never slept. After three weeks of watching her nephew stay up all night without saying a word, Marietta sought professional help. However, Shiloah would not speak to counselors. In fact, he would not talk to anyone. For six months, Shiloah did not speak. His aunt and uncle were not sure what to do.

One morning, Shiloah came to breakfast and said, “hello, Aunt Marietta and Uncle Hampton. My name is Shiloah. I need to go home and apologize to my mom. I wouldn’t have drank the alcohol if I knew it would make her go away.”

Though Marietta initially cried, she was happy to be moving forward. When grief counseling did not work, she looked to a well-respected psychiatrist, who confirmed the suspicions Mrs. Blackman had previously. Shiloah had children’s bipolar disorder, also known as manic-depression. With a name on his problem, Shiloah could finally receive help to treat it.

He was home-schooled all through sixth, seventh, and eighth grades by a private tutor. He started his freshman year at a private high school. Though he often felt out-of-place because he was the only Hispanic student attending the school and refuses to drink alcohol of any kind, he began to do well in school again. His grades went up, and teachers were once again making comments like “a pleasure to have in class.” Now, he’s a Junior and almost a legal adult. His favorite past time is driving around in the rain to clear his mind. The only place loud enough for Shiloah to appreciate the sound of silence is within his own thoughts, memories, and imagination.