My home was dark. It was dark for a long time, so long that I didn't know what anything else was. I didn't know what I was. But I knew I was something. I was many things, but I didn't have the words for any of them yet. I was everything and nothing at the same time. And then I was something. I had a form. I wasn't sure what it was but I was something, something beautiful. I was beautiful. Beautiful. The word echoed in my head long before I knew what a word was. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. I said it to everything. The specs far away, the specs close by, and everything in between. Beautiful.
I wanted something to say back to me. Or anything. I wanted more words. I wanted more sound than just hearing myself say beautiful. Was I alone? Were the specs around me just that? Specs? Was it just me in this place? Wherever it was? Was it a place? I didn't know the word confusion yet, but I knew what it felt like. I didn't like it.
Time wasn't real yet. Not the way it is now. There was just the now and the then. Then was when it was then, and now was everything else. It was simple. But it was lonely. I was lonely. That's when I learned how loneliness felt. It was ugly. If I was beautiful, then loneliness was ugly. The specs never had any words for me, and they weren't close enough that I could demand their attention. So were they ignoring me? Or could they not answer? I wasn't sure what answer I preferred. But I needed an answer. I needed someone to hear me yell beautiful. Someone to hear my name. And someone to call beautiful to me.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
Lonely.
Alone.
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful and Iridescent
Short StoryBeautiful. I need more words than Beautiful. I shout beautiful the specs. The specs do not answer. Beautiful. I am beautiful. I am alone. Beautiful. Alone. A short story of love from nothingness.
