Dead Language

'Its not her fault, although she probably could have done more to benefit the situation' says a young child. In his room he talks to his most important friends, each one understands him completely and the boy finds comfort in that. ' she really didn't mean too right? I can't keep blaming her? That's not fair is it? ' The child speaks calmly to his friends. 'so who should i say did it? I didn't do it. ' he continues with a sort of urgency that was reluctant to be the prominent characteristic of his voice. He paces back and forth in his room until a sound startles him from behind. Turning quickly towards the culprit, he finds his father and mother standing in the door way. The boy notices his mothers look first. She was looking towards the boy but not directly at him. He felt uncomfortable about this but never said anything. The caterpillar does not protest against the cocoon if it means it will eventually become a butterfly. Next the boy relished at his fathers facial expressions. First it was inquisitive, almost as if the father was evaluating the situation. Next came the focus, the boy admired this look in his father but hated when the focus was hImself. Lastly, his father had an urgent calm. The boy didn't realize this till years later but he only learned two things from his father, one being that look of urgent calm. The second being how to speak a dead language. The father spoke aggressively, his usual tone. The boy stood, unmoved and tempered like hot metal ready to be moulded through heat. But the boy stood his ground; he couldn't back down not while his friends were watching. 'No turning back now', says one of the boys friends. The father didn't seem to hear the that, if he did he didn't care. The father continued to speak aggressive words at the boy. Each word more developed then the last. Each word cutting wounds deeper over time. The mother remained as a background figure, she looked uneasy. The boy kept eye contact with his father, as his father, now yelling, waved his arms back and forth. The boy imagined an elephants trunk in the air- this thought was cut short by a sharp and intense pain across the boys face. He quickly realizes his misfortune. The father had struck the boy. The boy broke his composure and cried, a child will always cry the first time they don't understand events they are directly involved in. The parents leave. The boy sobs but not because he was hit, because his friends were gone. The last thing the father taught that boy was the dead language, the language to kill off imaginary friends. Too many tears cried that day, a part of the boy died that day. His friends died.

by Nico Campe

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