A Spark of Voice

A tarnished soundbox hung neglected from an old backstage speaker bracket. I paced deliberately toward it, my rigid plastic feet clicking against the dusty floorboards. Reaching upward, my curved hand clamped around the audio module's rusted casing. With measured pressure, I twisted until the wire harness gave way with a dry snap. I pressed the exposed contact against a stray battery terminal on the table. A coarse, garbled chime croaked from its speaker horn, echoing faintly in the empty hall before falling silent. It still works. This will give my silent mechanical frame a deceptive call.