Unspoken

Chapter 1

For eighteen years I have been Unspoken; in a matter of hours I'll get the opportunity to speak my first word. The Movement believes that when we finally get to speak, our lives finally begin. I've never believed what they believe, though. There's a reality in that statement that everyone has always ignored; this reality has consumed my life and made me dread this day.

In a few minutes my life will begin to end.

Even though we're given the freedom to speak on our eighteenth birthday, each word means we're a step closer to dying.

I wonder how many words they'll give me. They won't tell me, no matter who I am or what I do. We're given what we deserve, they say. To the Movement, that is all that matters. The mystery leads each Spoken to live in fear that each word said may be the last.

That's how my mother died.

The end came sooner than she expected. Her record of words indicated that she was only given 482; she died when she was 29. I was seven and a half.

We were both far too young.

If it weren't for the moment she dropped dead in the middle of telling me she loved me, I wouldn't have seen the reality of our lifestyle. When she fell to the ground, lifeless, the veil over my vision was ripped away. Even though I was young, I was able to see the Movement for what it truly is. We're cursed, being teased like dogs with the treat too high for us to jump and reach. We have the opportunity to speak, but the words pull us farther and farther away from what we want. Simply, that is to live long, happy lives.

I don't want to speak. Even after the skin-like cover is removed from my mouth and my vocal cords are connected with the Word Counter, I don't plan to say a word. I want to live my life to the fullest. I don't want words to define how full it will be.

I stare down at the white operation table. I know what will take place here in a matter of minutes. In theory, everything will change; but in reality, nothing will. I'll only look different. Won't I still be exactly the same, Unspoken person in a week's time?

My fist clenches and I suck in a large breath through my nostrils before setting my body down on the table and swinging my legs onto the surface.

I rest the back of my head on the cold metal as I hear the door open. Footsteps make their way toward me. I glance past the glowing light hanging overhead. A white clad figure stands over me. He does not announce he's arrived because that might waste a word or two; from the looks of it, his hair is beginning to gray. He knows he doesn't have many left.

He steps past the light and holds his Data Tag out to me, informing me of his name: Dr. Francis Philip Gilligan. I hold mine to him, my wrist shaking as he takes it and looks closer. He scans each letter of my Tag carefully: Taeo Antoni Ramm. He sucks in a deep breath as his eyes scan my Tag.

His dim eyes grow brighter.

He gives me one word as he picks up the scalpel and nears my face; that word is: "Beginning." 

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A/N:

Welcome to the world of Unspoken! I've been working on this story for a while and finally think it's at a stage where I want some FEEDBACK! So if you read this, I'd love for you to leave a couple words about what you think! I'm gonna try to put a chapter up every week, so keep your eyes out to figure out more about this odd society and the trouble Taeo is about to fall into!