The Scream
The girl asks the boy to take her to the beach, and they are here finally, because she has found him finally, someone kind enough to do her this favour. They sit on a boulder watching the colours of the sky dilute, turning blue, turning dark, until the stars become barely visible, and they remain only barely visible for the whole evening while waves lap over waves, washing sand away and bringing sand back. She thanks him many times, and he accepts it each time, not knowing why she says it so many times.
A few campfires glitter and scatter along the beach. There are tents, muffled music and carefree laughter in the background. Maybe there are fireflies too. After sitting for two hours talking about school and jobs and family, the girl gets up and heads for the water. She wants to make space. She takes him with her. She carves a boundless alcove for two.
"Sometimes you want to make this change in life and you need this big moment, and after that you live different, you become happier, you know," says the girl whose words can never say what she wants to say. "That's why I've been wanting to come here, for once. I only need once. I'll just scream like mad and there'll be change and I'll feel better."
The boy nods in anticipation.
The girl lets out a scream. An unpracticed, spontaneous scream, short and flat with a wavering pitch.
"A mouse can scream louder than that," the boy says. The girl shrugs. Her face feels warm.
The boy lets out a scream. The deep sound vibrates through his inner hollow; the soundwaves charge against the wind, ending in rough breathing, a beastly scream. He turns to her with an expression playful and satisfied, "That feels great," he says, "Now you try."
The girl knows she mustn’t scream like that. She wouldn't want to scream like that. So she walks closer to the water.
This time she takes a deep breath, and lets out a scream, pulling her spine, lunging her shoulders, locking her elbows, folding her knees, uncontrolled. But there's no sound. The wind smothers it. There could have been one huge scream or ten short ones or none at all. No one knows. She drops to the puffy sand. She is scared to know that her voice box could screech and scratch in this unthinkable manner. Now her cheeks, her ears, and her eyes are warm, but the cold air cuts into her wound. She tastes blood in her throat.
The boy comes forward and puts a hand on her shoulder, "Hey there, take it easy."
She feels his presence sharply in her sphere and she wonders why she couldn't have come here alone.
A few campfires glitter and scatter along the beach. There are tents, muffled music and carefree laughter in the background. Maybe there are fireflies too. After sitting for two hours talking about school and jobs and family, the girl gets up and heads for the water. She wants to make space. She takes him with her. She carves a boundless alcove for two.
"Sometimes you want to make this change in life and you need this big moment, and after that you live different, you become happier, you know," says the girl whose words can never say what she wants to say. "That's why I've been wanting to come here, for once. I only need once. I'll just scream like mad and there'll be change and I'll feel better."
The boy nods in anticipation.
The girl lets out a scream. An unpracticed, spontaneous scream, short and flat with a wavering pitch.
"A mouse can scream louder than that," the boy says. The girl shrugs. Her face feels warm.
The boy lets out a scream. The deep sound vibrates through his inner hollow; the soundwaves charge against the wind, ending in rough breathing, a beastly scream. He turns to her with an expression playful and satisfied, "That feels great," he says, "Now you try."
The girl knows she mustn’t scream like that. She wouldn't want to scream like that. So she walks closer to the water.
This time she takes a deep breath, and lets out a scream, pulling her spine, lunging her shoulders, locking her elbows, folding her knees, uncontrolled. But there's no sound. The wind smothers it. There could have been one huge scream or ten short ones or none at all. No one knows. She drops to the puffy sand. She is scared to know that her voice box could screech and scratch in this unthinkable manner. Now her cheeks, her ears, and her eyes are warm, but the cold air cuts into her wound. She tastes blood in her throat.
The boy comes forward and puts a hand on her shoulder, "Hey there, take it easy."
She feels his presence sharply in her sphere and she wonders why she couldn't have come here alone.
posted by Adam C at
3:00 AM
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