On Friday, I woke up and got ready excitedly. There was no school, so Mom took me straight to Bella's house. Her house was very big, about two stories tall and pretty nice. The first thing she did was explain that her parents were at the store.
After that, I said goodbye to Mom and Bella took me in excitedly.
"I know how to make you talk," she exclaimed. "Trust!"
I frowned.
"We can work on our trust," Bella explained. "So that you get comfortable enough to talk me. I don't know...I'm worried about you. What will happen in the future? Why not get you to talk now and make everything easier?"
I didn't bother to explain that I won't even talk around myself, let alone her. So, the whole time I was there, we did all sorts of trusting exercises, and it was sorry of fun.
By that night, I was pretty sure we both trusted each other. But I still wouldn't speak.
That night, I looked at all the words around me and plucked out the very best ones. With those special words, I formed sentences, and the sentences formed paragraphs, and the paragraphs formed a page.
All of those specific words I wrote made a description of why and how it was so hard for me to talk, and how I saw colors and smelled smells with words. I explained how words sing and smell and show, how wonderful and pleasant they are when you put them together. I explained why words are so magical and how that is why it is so unfair for me, an unworthy person, to speak them.
After I finished, I hesitantly gave the writing to Bella. She read it through, seeming engrossed in the magical words until it ended, when she looked slightly disappointed. Bella looked up at me.
"You...that was...wow," was all she could say.
Then she wrote me something back. The words did not string together quite so beautifully, and they didn't have very much color or smell, but it did explain what it was like to talk and use the wonderful words and sentences, rather than just writing them.
I read it and was grateful to understand how wonderful it would be, and yet, no matter how hard I tried, I did not have the courage to speak.
But I would. I knew I would. Someday.
YOU ARE READING
Megan Unspoken
General FictionMegan is unusual. She's not like the other kids--she sees the beauty of words, she understands the meaningful way in which they can be put. There's only one problem--she's never spoken before. Read the story to learn what happens to Megan and how...
