Words (part 2)

“This, Kay, is the key to your words.”  He turned to the audience.  “We'll give Kay two minutes.”

“No! This is not what we agreed to!” It was Jock.

Screens lit up around the room as Wake hit buttons on the key.  

2:00

My time had started. I had only two minutes for the rest of my life's words! My breath came in short gasps as I stared at Jock. His face was contorted in anger.

“Agreements are not promises, Jock. They are subject to change.” Wake's voice was crisp and clean. It held a tone of accomplishment.

“NO!” Jock whirled away, then turned back just as fast, grabbing for the key.

Wake stepped away unperturbed. “Guards!”

I couldn't take it anymore. “Stop.” My voice was an unfamiliar whisper, but it worked. They stopped.

I turned to the crowd. My heart was thumping so hard, I thought I would fall over from its pounding. But I had made up my mind. They can’t take my words away because there won’t be any left by the time they get the chance.

I looked at the clock.

1:45

“I have an opinion.” I lingered on the forbidden word; it strengthened my confidence from its source of truth.  I took a deep breath. “Our words are being stolen from us.” I gave a shaky smile.

1:34

“We common people have a dwindling supply of words, but look at Rollin. He has words to squander on meaningless speech.  I do not. My words will be gone in 70 seconds.”

That reality sunk in.

“They want this.” I gestured to Rollin. “When words are limited they become valuable. This value tricks us into thinking that no one will listen, so we don't speak. We dislike what they are doing, yet we say nothing but wasteful words to our friends.”

I paused to take a breath and collect my thoughts. The audience stirred.

0:59

“How can we cure this? We need people to speak. When they do we must listen and evaluate. Then we must act. So that this does not recur. If no one will speak it will recur and one day speech will be a foreign thing. This is not what Mallowlea is; it is what it will become. ”

I waited for a response, but it was quiet.  No one moved.  I began to cry.

“Please.” The tears ran down my cheeks.

0:17

I was at a loss of words. The people had not responded to my message, but I had only four words left anyway.  I turned to leave the stage, unwilling to face further humiliation, but a rough hand caught my arm.

“Marvelous, darling, marvelous. When you began your speech I thought I might reconsider, but your defiant words have stolen that opportunity.” Wake smirked.

I struggled, then stopped. It was no use; I was too weary to try.

“Kay!” It was Jock.

0:05

Four words.

“Jock, please --” My words were cut short. I looked at the clock.

0:02

I tried again.

Nothing.

“No.” Jocks cry blurred in my mind.

I clasped my throat, searching for the words that should be there. It didn't make sense. They were gone.

My knees began to give way, and I closed my eyes. I'm so tired.

A pair of strong arms picked me up. “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” I recognized Jock's voice, but strained and muffled, as if he was crying.

Then I heard a voice. One that was unfamiliar. It said “Words. Words.” Then another one joined in. And another.

And the swell of voices put me to sleep.      

My favorite sound is voices.  I never truly understood the strength and meaning of words until I lost everything that night.  There is so much freedom in speech; I do not have to type my conversations to save words anymore.  I can look into Livia’s eyes and tell her things; she can answer me.  A voice can comfort; it can rejoice; it can encourage; it can speak out and change the world.  I know this because I lived my story, and I spoke my opinion.  A few words changed my world, and because of that my life will never be the same.

~Harper