Young Writers Society

~Ky~ 

Cynthia blurts something out so loudly my ears ring a little. She stands up as quick as lightning. But it isn't like I care, because in this moment beautiful, untouched treasure is just laying there, completely unguarded on the table. And I can't get to it because Grandpa is holding me like I'm some kind of toy. Plus, there's this annoying thing strangling my neck. I can breathe, but this thing is so uncomfortable. 

Words fly from Cynthia's and Grandpa's mouths, but I could care less about getting the details. Instead I preoccupy myself with trying to get the yellow noose off me. To make matters worse, Grandpa holds me up higher. My feet struggle on nonexistent ground. It's like there is no up and down here, just air. I hate this so much, I wish he would just put me down. I glare at him, but it is in vain. That's when I catch a few interesting words. 

"I think Ky might be a ryg, too," Grandpa explains.

Did he just say I might be a ryg? A ryg? Th-that can't be! I can't possible have powers or be pretty much immortal or anything! Plus, I've never even seen a- wait no, Cynthia is one. Though that is not recent news. But still, I absolutely cannot be! Right? For some odd reason, the thought makes my chest flutter.

"How so?" Cynthia questions the old man.

"Isn't it obvious?" Grandpa starts, "He's old for a ponmik, and yet he still looks rather young. In fact, he acts young too," he giggles at that.

"So?" Cynthia retorts, looking slightly nervous, "He could just be really healthy."

Grandpa continues, "Oh, and he's also very intelligent for a ponmik. He pays close attention when I read aloud to him, and sometimes he even responds when I think out loud."

Cynthia looks very unsure for a moment, and then states, "But he doesn't actually speak, Grandpa. A ponmik ryg can talk. Besides, I can't take him with. It's too dangerous for him."

Take me with? My ears stand straight up as my full attention is caught. I can...go with her? I could possibly leave the house? To where? And danger? Weirdly enough the word "danger" gets me excited, though I can't explain why since I'm not one of those "Darksiders" I consistently hear about. I want it though, this danger, even if I cannot fully grasp the concept of having my life at stake yet.

"Well, we haven't really given him the chance to talk yet. I know, how about we try to get Ky to speak?" Grandpa offers, "If we can't get him to utter a single word, he'll stay. But if he manages even one word, he'll accompany you."

With that, he places me back on solid ground, between him and Cynthia. I revel in the cool, smooth feel of the tiled floor beneath my paws. I can't enjoy it for long. Curious eyes start to burn into my back, yearning for answers to unknown questions. Suddenly an intense pressure starts to crush me as I realize this is my one and only chance to get out of here. Finally get out of this house I call my world. Both humans tower over me, each one a representation of my fate. On my left the blonde stands, her stature portraying confidence, but her ruby red eyes betraying her anxiety. She is the path I want, to accompany her is my one and only dream. If only I can speak at least one human word. 

On the other hand Grandpa stands, well, slouches I guess. He can't stand up straight. To fail his expectation of me talking would mean to be doomed to stay trapped in this house for eternity. Cynthia's right, though: no human word has ever escaped my mouth before. Yet, I can't give up. I won't. All I want is to be with her. That has been all I ever wished for, besides of course leaving the house. The moment she had moved in with Grandpa and I, I was ecstatic. So now, the opportunity to leave the house and be with her at the same time is the one thing I cannot miss.

"So, Ky," Cynthia kneels down to make eye-contact with me, "Do you have anything to say?"

"I'm sure you can do it," Grandpa encourages me.

Time appears to freeze. My head stops working, as if a thoughts don't exist. Even worse, my mouth seems to be clamped shut. I try inhaling first. Then maybe I can think of a word. It's not like I can repeat her or Grandpa, that wouldn't prove anything. Think Ky, think. Dread drills a pain into my head and makes the situation worse. There has got to be a word easy enough for me to say.

"Hi," I exhale. 

Yes. Yes. Yes! YES! Happiness floods my entire body and a huge weight is lifted. I can't help but wiggle a little in my excitement. My day has come. I'm finally free. I can finally live. I can finally see the outside world and experience life to the fullest. 

Meanwhile, Cynthia stumbles backwards dramatically. Her shock is as plain as the ceiling is white. Her wide eyes lock onto me as if she can't believe it.

"What!?" she stutters, "N-no! B-b-but-"

"He's coming with you," Grandpa says cheerfully, "It's settled."

Completely overjoyed, I sprint towards the table, leap onto it (right near Cynthia's abandoned plate, of course), and try out some more human words.

"Hey world! I am Ky!" I bellow, my speech ridiculously choppy. I then proceed to shove a good paw-full of savory mashed potatoes into my mouth. Who could possibly resist?