The Pylon
We were driving on holiday when Sam saw a pylon in a field.
Once upon a time, there was a tall pylon that lived in a field. She was called Petra and she loved listening to things (being a pylon, there wasn't much else to do, standing there in the field all day holding up the wires). She loved listening to the birds in spring, to the children playing in the field in summer, to the wind in autumn and to the gentle fall of snowflakes in winter.
Unfortunately, the wires that Petra had to hold up were very annoying. They were noisy and badly behaved. They would chatter and talk when Petra was trying to listen. They would howl and flap about in the wind. In winter, when icicles grew on the wires, they would shake them off so that they fell to the ground with a great crash.
“Why, oh why, oh why,” moaned Petra, “is my only companion in all these miles of countryside so annoying?”
Then one day, a giant came wandering through the field carrying a guitar.
“Hello there!” called Petra. “What's a giant like you doing in a field like this?”
“I'm trying to find some strings for my guitar. It's tricky – none of the guitar shops I've been to have big enough strings for a giant's guitar.”
Petra thought for a moment. A naughty idea entered her mind.
“Well, you could take these wires I'm holding up. They're probably the right size.”
“What?” exclaimed the wires, startled. “No, you can't take me!”
“Hey, come on!” said the giant, “it'll be wild. We can do gigs, go to concerts. Adventure, excitement and really wild things!”
“Well, maybe,” said the wires, thinking a bit more. “It might be better than sitting here in this field.”
So the giant took the wires, fitted them to his guitar, and off he went.
Petra heaved a big sigh of relief. She settled back and listen to the quiet little sounds – the birds twittering in their nests, the butterflies fluttering around the flowers, the lambs bleating in the nearby fields.
Autumn came, and Petra listened to the wind rustling the trees. Winter came, and Petra could hear each and every snowflakes tumbling to the ground.
But then the next year rolled round and Petra noticed something strange. It was too quiet. Nice though the little sounds of nature were, she missed talking to the wires. She missed their silly noises and chatter. She felt a little bit lonely.
That summer, the farmer had organised a big music festival in the field. Lots of bands and musicians came to play their songs. To Petra's delight, the giant came to play his guitar. His music was fantastic, and after he had finished playing, Petra called over to the wires on his guitar.
“Hey, how's it going?” she asked.
The wires looked a little sad. “Well, you know, it's been great living the rock and roll lifestyle, seeing the world, meeting great musicians and everything. But all the loud music and the noise gets to you after a while. I just wish I could come back to the field and enjoy the silence.”
Petra was delighted to hear this. She asked the giant if he would mind stringing the wires back onto her.
“Not at all,” he said. “Now we're famous, lots of people have started making giant-sized guitar strings. I don't have to go taking them down from pylons any more.”
Soon life returned to how it used to be. Except, there were a few changes. The wires had learned how to make beautiful music. They twanged tunefully in the spring in harmony with the bird song. They let the wind blow through them mournfully in the strong autumn gales. In winter, they would shake the icicles in a crisp, shimmering melody.
Petra and the wires became firm friends. The farmer continued having music festivals every year – lots of bands played wonderful music, but the highlight of the show was a quiet half hour, right at the end, when everyone would stop to listen to the beautiful sounds of nature.