Creative Writing Collection

Deaf to a Voice

Eyes blank, void of color, the woman gently raised an open palm. She had no hair nor clothing—alone in this open and clear space. She looked down at her hands, the creases upon them; open flaps of skin. Concentrating, the woman filled for figures to arise. Shapes, first, then letters. Watching as they floated upwards — triangles, circles, squares — words etched themselves onto them.

       Teh ploepe eiv enbe. Teh palsce eiv olevd.

       She frowned a little at the jumbled words. Eyes shining brightly, neck tightening — the snake and crane shifted a little —, the misspelled terms rearranged themselves. The birds on her forearm flapped a little during the rearranging process. Eventually, all was clear.

       The people I’ve been. The places I’ve loved.

       With a small smile, the map of earth upon her forehead glowed just a bit as the shapes and words entered her head. No, not just going within, but to a specific place on the world — El Paso, Texas, this time, to be exact.

       Mother Nature.

       She found only one voice; not even her own. It was soft, but she could tell he was shouting, or perhaps he simply had a loud voice. But she could not hear him — she was busy at the moment.

       Still, her palms excreted people, animals, objects, incomprehendible stanzas, all flooding into that map upon her forehead. A red dot appeared on there for each thing she filled. At first, it was bare, then, it became pinpricked with life.

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       That voice now, she could hear it more. He was telling her to stop. “Do not continue! For so much pain has been brought onto them!” he said.

       Mother had stopped, the hexagon that had floated an inch dissolved away. Her blind gaze set forward, the map upon her forehead bled with how much red resided. There was no room for more. ‘How had this happened?’ she wondered. And slowly, her hands rested against her side, the factory of life shutting itself down. She sat there, rolling the Master’s words through her mind again and again. Too many people. Too many people to love, to lose, to forget, to remember, to mourn, to celebrate — too many people.