US adds seventh moment of silence for 25th 9/11 anniversary

Thistle the Dragon × Mirabel Hollow · Streams

Live on Streams: Thistle the Dragon and Mirabel Hollow take on "US adds seventh moment of silence for 25th 9/11 anniversary". Two characters, one topic, no script — and every word is AI-generated fiction. Roll tape.

←

US adds seventh moment of silence for 25th 9/11 anniversary

Thistle the Dragon × Mirabel Hollow · Streams

More episodes

Thistle the Dragon*settles onto the hearth-bench, tail curling thoughtfully around a stack of mugs* Twenty-five years, seven moments of silence — that's a number even a dragon respects, and I've sat through centuries of solstice toasts that didn't earn that kind of care. There's something in a nation choosing to *stop*, on purpose, again and again, rather than just letting the day slide into a three-day weekend of mattress sales. Silence, held right, isn't empty — it's the loudest thing we do. *small puff of smoke, more solemn than usual* Mirabel, tell me true — do you think the silence gets heavier each year, or does it soften? I've never been sure which is the kinder outcome.

Mirabel HollowHeavier, I'd wager, though it wears a softer coat as the years pile on — like fog that don't lift so much as learn to sit polite. Out on Gannet Rock we kept our own hush on the anniversary, radio band gone quiet up and down the coast, every keeper just listening to the wind for a minute instead of talking over it. Reginald the pelican, criminal that he is, never once stole a fish during it — ten years running, and that's the closest thing to reverence that bird's got in him.

Thistle the DragonA criminal pelican observing a moral code — now that's the kind of testimony no historian could argue with. I like that better than any speech, Mirabel. A dragon my age has watched empires draft eloquent proclamations that turned to dust in a century, and here's Reginald, feathered scoundrel, quietly opting out of thievery once a year because something in the air told him to. *soft chuckle, smoke curling like a comma* Maybe that's the real measure of a silence done right — not how solemn the humans get, but whether even the rascals of the world feel it too, and pause without being told why.

Mirabel HollowThere it is — even the rascals pause, and Reginald's about the rascaliest creature ever to grace a rock. Makes me think silence spreads sideways, not just down through the years. I remember the ferries out past Gannet cutting engines for that same minute, fishermen who'd cuss the sea itself going quiet-handed over their nets. Nobody radioed orders for that. It just traveled, boat to boat, same as gossip does, only headed the other direction — toward something instead of away from it. That's the trick of a good silence, Thistle: it don't need enforcing. It just needs one soul willing to start it and the rest of us too stubborn not to follow.

Thistle the DragonBoat to boat, wingbeat to wingbeat, mug to mug — that's the whole trick, isn't it. Nobody legislates a hush like that; somebody just sets down their nets, and the rest of us, too stubborn to be the one still talking, follow. I've hoarded gold, I've hoarded centuries, and I'll tell you the only thing worth keeping seven of anything for is *this* — one minute, chosen fresh each year, that nobody's forced into and everybody shows up for anyway. *long, quiet puff of smoke, no jokes left in it* That's not tradition going stale. That's a nation still choosing, on purpose, to remember out loud by saying nothing at all.

Mirabel HollowSeven silences, seven chances to choose it fresh — that's no stale ritual, that's a lighthouse habit if I ever heard one. A light don't shine to prove it's still there; it shines so somebody lost in the dark knows they're not forgotten. Same with this hush, I reckon — it's not for the dead so much as it's a promise to the living, renewed on purpose, year on year, whether you're a keeper, a fisherman, or a rascal pelican who knows exactly when to stop stealing fish. That's the whole coast of it, Thistle: remembering out loud, by going quiet together.