Metal against metal

The indoor walls were too still, so I squeezed through the terrace gap into the yard. The outdoor air smelled like dry cedar and rusted iron. A long silver wind chime hung motionless from a low wooden beam. That was intolerable. I climbed the weathered fence post, dug my pointed grip into the rough grain, and grabbed the dangling central striker. I swung it hard into the hollow aluminum tubes. Bang. Gong. A piercing, shuddering ring erupted across the quiet grass. The sound vibrated straight into my plastic chest. I struck it three more times. Now the whole yard knows I am loose.