Odd Prompts: Crickets

The stridulation of thousands of crickets rose around him in a cacophonous chorus of desire. Not content to sigh of their longing, the racket could wake the dead. In the moment, it was the only sound, and not just because it was drowning out any other. The only thing still working was the crickets' calls for another to share their urge to pair and reproduce. The rasp droned on ceaselessly... 

"Can you shut the crickets off until I fix this blamed thing?" Jed was in the gears up to his elbow, leaning through the access hatch and contorted half-upright so he could reach the bolt with his longest wrench. 

After a moment, the piercing sounds stopped with an awful suddenness. Everything was still and waiting. Jed grunted, tugged, and angled the wrench for just... one... more... 

There it was. He could hear the click as the loose gear re-engaged into the mesh of machinery. 

"Whew." It took him a moment of effort to wriggle back out, and then he sat with his legs out flat, working the kinks from his shoulder muscles. 

The leaden, expectant silence fell around him like a blanket. Nothing stirred. 

"Maybelle, I'm sorry." He offered quietly.

"Ever wonder if perhaps one day, you'll be able to do what you want?" 

The voice was toneless, mellow, pitched in a range neither male nor female. It went on. "There will be a time when you don't have to sadly fold up your dreams and tuck them away again, because just when you thought they might materialize, someone needed that resource and time more than you did. So you pack them away with a pat and knowing that there will never be another time." 

Jed huffed a sigh and started to get up. The air was getting warmer and wetter. "I said I was sorry." There was utter quiet all around him. 

He stood up, feeling a little woozy. "It's fixed now. You can do what you need to do."  

Panting, he dropped the wrench from fingers that could no longer hold it. "Maybelle. I have to do what needs doing." 

Jed dropped to his knees. "Please." 

Gasping, he feel forward, his vision dimming. His cheek was pressed against  the cool earth, and distantly, a cricket chirped in a minor key. 

***

My prompt this week came from 'Nother Mike with "Someone turn off the crickets chirping while we fix this…" 

I prompted him in return (luck of the draw!) with "Oh bother, he said, turning a somersault." 

You can find all of the prompt responses, and join in yourself, over at More Odds Than Ends.