The professor nodded. 'Yes, do that, Harry. We've been finding out a few things
about the man whose grave it was. He appears to have been some kind of priest or
medicine-man. It seems a bit odd that his grave was so hidden. I wonder why?'
On his way home, Harry forgot about the clay whistle in his pocket. He
stopped for a coffee in a noisy shopping
centre. As he searched his pockets for money, he felt the whistle in his pocket.
When he had sat at his table he took it out to look at. It was still dirty. He gently
cleared away t he dirt. There was something written on the whistle. The marks
looked like writing. He looked more closely and recognised some old Chinese
writing. There was very little of it. All it said was: BE STILL.
Be still? How extraordinary. What did it mean? He looked at the whistle again.
It was the kind that one blew from .the top, like a football whistle. He wondered if
it would still work. The thought came into his mind that he wanted to blow it. He
wanted to very much. The whistle had not been blown since it had been placed in
the pot all those years before. He would blow it. It was small - it would not make
much noise. Nobody would notice. So he put it to his mouth and blew.
To his surprise, the whistle gave a thin, clear note that was louder than he
expected.
Then there was silence. Complete silence.
Harry noticed something else, too. Everything was still. Nothing was moving. No
noise, no movement.
Nothing.
People who had been walking were frozen in mid-step, like statues. They were as
still as photographs.
But they weren't photographs. They were real people. Frozen people. Harry's
eyes opened wide with surprise. He couldn't believe it. This should not be
happening.
But it was. He looked around and saw frozen smiles, frozen steps, a fly frozen in
flight, a ball thrown by a child which lay frozen above the hand which was
waiting to catch it.
And all the while a total, perfect silence.
Harry sat down again. He could hardly think. How could he make sense of
this? This had happened after he had blown the whistle. Had the whistle done this?
What would happen if he blew it again? He certainly didn't want things to remain as
they were!
He blew the whistle again. Once again it gave its thin, clear note.
All at once the normal world returned. Normal sounds, normal movement. The
fly flew, the ball was caught, people laughed and talked.
It was as if nothing had happened.
Harry was shaken. He put the whistle in his pocket. He would have to think
about this. He would have to think hard.
But by the time Harry had got home he had somehow persuaded himself that he
had imagined everything. He felt better after a good supper and some TV. It had all
been a waking dream. He was tired, that's all. He just needed a good night's sleep.
And so he slept. But his sleep was troubled and his dreams were full of
shadows.
Harry went back to work the next day. He found nothing interesting. That's what
he told Professor Teo.