Whisper

Mumble

Mumble.
1. (v) To say something indistinctly and quietly, making it difficult for others to hear.
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This is what I read during my daily lessons, I couldn't believe they were allowed to teach us what all this means but we were never allowed to do it.
They tell us (and by tell us I mean sign to us) that the world was once full of chaos, noise. That the world was addicted. To words on pages or whispers on lips. I think that the world was chaos, and there are people who would like to silence the human noise. I think that's what our society did. But I wouldn't know, they don't tell us. Nor would I dare ask, they'd have my head for doing something of the manner.
See, a few centuries ago, after the war, a new society was formed. All sound was banned, all noise forbidden but certainly not forgotten. I guess they figured that if no one disrupted the peace with their own personal shouts and screams, there would be no more war. No conflict. If people keep their mouths shut and stay quiet, nothing will happen.
But to me, that's the problem. I don't see why the government or whoever is really in charge wouldn't want the world to move on. If there is only silence, arguments will go unresolved. Our world will basically stop moving, things cannot move forward if there is no closure.
I just wish I wasn't the one to be the first to mumble, to whisper, breathe, to speak, and every other word for sound, for music.
Still, it felt like I had broken the invisible barrier someone had set for me.
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-one week previously-
Same class. Same book I've read at least a hundred times, same seat. Same room.
Same life. My mind taunted me daring me to do something I'll regret. I have told no one of the 'voices', I had to research what they were called. So strange that they were in my head with only silence around me, so strange, so beautiful. They make the world seem a whole lot more real, they whisper things, telling me that I am damned, or some other 'insult'? I think that's what it is called. I have not tried to respond to these ghosts in my head, not ask them who they are or why they are here, I simply listen. When they speak they sound like calloused hands and the taste of metal on your tongue. It took me a day or two to realize that the voices were not friendly. And they were gaining strength. Each of their evil voices growing in volume with every minute on the silent clock ticking by. Though I regarded their hostility with nothing but curiosity, I still wondered if they would leave. It seems that all good things leave me in some way, these.... Mumblings are going to leave too. Although something about that relieves me greatly.
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