Speechless Moments (Sarella)

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Abbigail Marien
AVOX

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I spilt the dirt from the pan and it landed on the sofa. I stared at it, wondering what to do. A little bit later, Missus’ daughters came home and saw the mess. The younger one, 13, I had been told, sent me outside.

“And don’t come back untill mother gets home!” she yells, slamming the door. I go around back and grab a coat from the outdoor closet. I trudge through the snow to the front of the house and stand there, in silence, waiting for Missus. A few people nudge by, one nearly toppling me over, and I start the real thinking. Alone. That was my only thought. People began to glare, and a little boy with a basketball tried to cheer me up. Then he realized who I was. He immediately stood up, and stomped of, annoyed at me.

After a while, I stood back up, and waited patiently, without sound, for Missus. I was in the process of imagining Missus’ face when she saw my mess, when a tall (to me) boy runs right into me. I begin to think “Not another snob” when I see how bony he is. I back up a few paces, then settle myself into stare mode. He watches me, standing there, thinking. His mind seemed to be buzzing with thoughts, while mine was intent on reading his. I took my focus off him and waited for Missus some more, but couldn’t help the occasional glance. He was very silent.

I dipped my head down and stared at the ground, watching new snow fall slowly in front of me. I open and close my mouth for a bit, testing how much a missing tongue effected me. Once, maybe twic, I reached in there and poked around, then made a slight choking noise, from opening my mouthfor to long.

He shifted, and I took in his details for a bit. Blonde hair, just like most of the boys from my old district. His difference was his grey eyes, not green, or blue. He could, possibly, be an anorexic crazy capital citizen, for he wore some jewelry, but didn’t seem to have the same act as one.

I turned to look behind me then shuffle my feet for a bit and try listening in on a conversation taking part a few feet away. Then I wonder, why is he still standing there?

I want more than anything to talk to this strange boy. To ask his name, where he lives, and if he wants a friend. Probobly not. He was a remarkably silent person, and had an air about him that made me feel something, just, different. Silent as an Avox. I try to laugh, but instead again choke on my own throat. Then, I forget my avoxness, and tried to say hi, but instead came out, “Glajk.”

Startled, I pulled my hand to my mouth in pain and looked at the boy to see his reaction. The true effect of no tongue dawned on me, and this was no mere pain that would leave. It would last forever. This was the first time I had tried to speak, and know I understood why I never tried. I began to get really cold.