Friday, 15 August 2008

Fiction Friday

Prompt is to write about a stolen conversation.



Hi.

Eh...hiya.

Dead air. Then, um...how are you?

The voice on the other line full of indifference when it only says, I'm fine, allowing for more dead air. Painful air. An air so thick that the shy one on the other line can touch it, their child-like crush shattered.

This won't do, Sian thinks. And so, she steals it. This is what she does.

Sian steals words.

Hard words, hateful words, cruel words, abusive words, she steals them all. I hate you. I'm leaving you. You're not good enough. No one likes you, go kill yourself.

All these Sian has taken. Every hurt word, every cruel intention, she stuffs them into her hand bag.

A small whisp of a woman, no one looks twice at her. No one sees her theft. At night, in that hour when everyone last peson is asleep, she takes them home and cooks them over her fire.

There, she leaves them for the day to simmer down, to fall apart, to be transformed.

Wiil you marry me? Let's be friends. We'll love you, no matter what. Let's start a family.

I love you.

These are the words she gives back.

Sian knows every word, even the smallest one, counts. Everyone makes a difference.

Words heal.

5 comments:

Arial said...

Provided I understood what you did with this piece, you were taking cruel and hateful words and turning them into loving and healing words...yes? I like it! It brought me to a place of despair, but you turned it around and I shot for the heavens. Thanks for sharing!!

That's my two pence...
Arial ;)

www.EnchantedWoodz.com
www.EnchantedWoodz.com/arialburnz
http://arialburnz.wordpress.com

The Countess said...

The awkward moments.. the dead air.. The fear of words coming out of the other end. Beautiful! I like this post.

Paul said...

I like Sian - kind of a fairy godmother of words, turning hateful pumpkins of words into something wonderful.

K. Whitton-Williams said...

I agree with Arial, the countess and Paul. . . this is very well done. An interesting concept for certain: Stealing words and turning them on their heads. You're so right - words matter - every one of them.

fourwindshaiga said...

I love this idea, a good story.