Letters | Teen Ink

Letters

January 17, 2017
By etaltysanghera BRONZE, Arlington Heights, Illinois
etaltysanghera BRONZE, Arlington Heights, Illinois
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The fractured letters sat on the inside of his lips, like residual lip balm when the weather is cold, burning. Others seemed to transcend the defective letters, passing his teeth barely singed, his ears pulling the vibrations towards them. When liberated the fractured letters created accidental moments in time, leaving welts across the peeled skin of his mouth.


Within these moments his ears converged to another part of his body; the sound of his blood rushing and his heart beating whilst he lay on his back, the sound of his hand pressed against his stomach when someone complimented him or the sound of his thumb brushing his lips closed. As though the turbulence falling from his lips was less of an interest.

 

Blurs of water, induced by the kettle, dimmed the glass of the cupboards above. The evaporated water mutated into beads of blue, invading the etches lying upon the wooden border, like paint filling the dimples of a canvas. The kettle approached his hand, seeking the notches of raw flesh whilst the water merged with the base of the cup. Colors arranged at the base dissipated on impact. The humid water pressed its heat outward, knocking every chalky particle into motion. Until it reached the brittle lip, where it faltered.

 

The smoked arteries bridged the gaps in the wall, folding loops around the naked flesh fused to the letters.  Ribbons of neurons became swallowed by the solvent that was beginning to to pulsate through the ripples in his tongue. The letters began to scuff and crease. Gradually, morphed phonetics slowly sank from his mouth. "I-ca", "I can't lov-". His tongue continued to flutter, as though it were rearranging the order of his teeth. "I can't love-", "I, I won-", "I don't lo-".  The fragmented language fell like water running along wet hair.


His body redirected itself; the sound of adrenaline merging with his blood, the sound of bubbles of spit popping and the sound of blood driving towards his head. His body had forced him to walk across fire with the promise he would come away unscathed.



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Faustuslizz said...
on Jan. 19 2017 at 12:06 pm
This piece truly made me empathise with the speaker, although it is apparent that elements of the plot can be seen or exhibited as a simple tragedy it went beyond that genre, showcasing the skill of the arthor, bravo.