This was amazing! So well though out, your words were just amazing, everything flowed together perfectly! I can't wait to read more of your writings!
Esther folded the napkin. She’d been able to sculpt them into swans once, even penguins, but the method escaped her now, so she just folded and folded until the thing was the size of a postage stamp. It gave her something to do with her hands.
She looked towards the door, at the rain pattering slantwise against the glass. The music shifted from a piano track to brass. A waitress passed the table – the tired-eyed one, the one who’d passed by three times already.
You want to order food? she signed.
Esther shook her head. Torn between signing I’m waiting for someone and just a few more minutes, her hands attempted both at once. The waitress moved on without comment, but Esther’s cheeks burned. She gulped more of her lemonade, the glass hard under her teeth.
The bell tinkled. Hilda breezed in, her coat starred with rain, her hair wrestled into a sodden plait. Esther barely felt herself stand up. Her mouth was halfway open before Hilda even made it to the table – another second, and a ‘hello’ might have tumbled from her lips.
Hiya, Essie, Hilda signed, grinning.
Esther caught herself. She swallowed the greeting, felt it settle in her chest like a stone.
Hi, she signed back.
-
They’d met at the Monday services, when Esther had been six and Hilda – as she stressed, very loudly and persistently – had been six and a half. At that age, Esther had already been taught about the sanctity of words. She handled them carefully, like someone else’s jewellery.
Hilda grabbed them by the handful. She even tossed them away sometimes, spluttering herself into a tangle and veering headlong into one, two, three different sentences before she found the one she liked best. When they’d first met, Esther had heard Hilda before she saw her. In the seconds before she rounded the back of the church, she was only a loud, loud voice, rattling a mile a minute.
Then she became a tanned, frizzy-haired girl who yanked Esther’s arm when she was excited and thumped her shoulder to get her attention. But she was always the voice first. She was the bouncy, bellowing curves of vowels, the spikiness of consonants. Even now, it was hard to picture her without them.
-
When actually is the big day, then? Hilda signed, waving her fork around. Pasta sauce lashed the table. I can do your hair, make-up, all that stuff. I’ll make those pretty eyes pop.
Esther chewed her rice to mush, unable to swallow. Mum wants to keep it quite traditional, she signed.
Hilda waved her hand. As a child, it was a gesture that had generally accompanied a cry of “pish!” Esther had never known what the word really meant.
A girl’s got to look beautiful on her wedding day, Hilda signed. Heck, a girl’s got to look beautiful while she can. Hurrah for marriage, but after that comes the kids, and Lord knows you don’t get your figure back after that.
She slapped her own thigh, shaking her head. Esther flushed and looked away, her eyes catching on the booth on the opposite side of the room. A man and a woman sat on either sofa, picking at plates of pasta. The man’s lips were moving.
It was suddenly hard to look away. Hilda followed her gaze, then her eyes rolled.
Honestly, she signed. I’ve good mind to go over there.
It isn’t a crime, Esther signed, hesitantly.
It’s disrespectful, this part of town, Hilda signed. She leaned forwards on her arms. Your guy’s a priest, isn’t he?
Esther’s eyes lingered on the man. He was pointing upwards, moving his head to the music, ba-ba-baing along to the tune. He dug his fork onto the woman’s plate to scoop up some spaghetti – she swatted him, too late. He kept talking through his mouthful.
Hilda waved a hand. Essie?
Esther blinked. What was that, sorry?
Hilda repeated the question, her movements more frenetic. Esther nodded too quickly. In the corner of her eye, she could still see the man singing.
-
After the meal, Hilda hugged her – one brisk, fierce squeeze, like hands squishing down on a piping bag – and then dropped her seemingly at once, ducking into her car. It peeled away from the pavement with a smooth, purring hum, barely loud enough to stir the quiet.
Hilda had wanted a sports car as a child. She’d mimicked her dream engine at the top of her lungs, rolling her ‘r’s, puffing her chest out.
Esther shook the memory off like a cobweb, turning for the bus stop. The rain had stopped now, but the pavements were still dark with it, glazed orange in places by streetlamps. When she put her forehead to the metal railings of the bus stop, it was deliciously, numbingly cold.
“You okay there?” someone said.
She started, butting her head against the railing.
“Whoops,” they said. “Who needs brain cells, right?”
Esther turned, rubbing her forehead, her heart hammering. She saw a brush of features: dark hair, upturned nose, deep-set eyes. A man. That man - the one from the restaurant, in the booth opposite; the one who talked—
“You alright?” he asked.
She hesitated. Then signed, fleetingly: yes.
“Good. More importantly, how’s the bus stop?” he said, stepping closer to inspect the paintwork. She moved back automatically, but he didn’t seem to notice. “No physical damage. But mentally, you’ve ruined him for life.”
She could only stare, her hands gripping the folds of her coat. He straightened up, thrusting his own hands into his pockets – carelessly, needlessly. He had no intention of using them.
“You a fan of films, by any chance?” he asked.
Her brain grasped for a way to get rid of him; found nothing. Depends, she signed.
He pulled two strips of paper from his pocket and held them up. “There’s some French one on later. Don’t suppose you fancy it? I was going to take someone else, but, alas, she’s convinced she left the stove on.”
Esther blinked. He spoke so openly, so easily, laying the words out like an expert hand on a poker table. Did he not realise? It wasn’t like he was foreign, or at least not that foreign. And he clearly understood her when she signed.
“Gonna need a yes or a no at some point,” he said.
She jerked her head no. His shoulders sagged, his grin flattening.
“Fair enough,” he said, slipping the tickets back into his pocket. “I just thought you looked a bit bored, that’s all.”
Esther watched him turn and walk away, blood beating in her ears. She didn’t realise that the bus had arrived until the driver honked at her.
This was amazing! So well though out, your words were just amazing, everything flowed together perfectly! I can't wait to read more of your writings!
Heya! Spotted this in the short story section so thought I'd drop by with a (probably a little rusty but we'll try our best) review.
I really like the premise of this story and if you continue it I would be super interested in seeing where it goes.
The flow of this piece worked well, I thought. It did feel quite fast, which I feel might become a problem if you had a full piece at this pace, but at this stage, it was something I noticed but was not necessarily overly concerned about. You mentioned in the description-y thing that this was for an assignment so I'm not sure if you have word counts to contend with, but leaving the story a little more time to breathe could be beneficial in the long run.
There are several moments in this piece where your turn of phrase is really lovely. There are some really fab descriptions here.
The characterisation of Hilda and the man was good. Wasn't getting so much from Esther - she felt a little... passive? Which I'm definitely getting vibes was at least partly intentional, but I didn't get much of a feel for who she is, or why I should care about her (that sounded a lot harsher than I intended, sorry!). There were some hints, like in the flashback-y section about how she and Hilda met, but at the moment she feels a bit blank. And there could be some meaningful, overarching reason for this that I'm currently missing, it's not quite working for me at the moment and I'd like to see Esther have a little bit more to her.
But on the plus side, I thought the descriptions of Hilda - how she and Esther met, and the description of how their relationship grew - were gorgeous, and then when she actually appeared in the 'present day' parts of the story her character felt true to how she'd been introduced.
I REALLY DON'T KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THE MAN. In a good way as far as writing goes, but as a reader reaction I'm torn between being really intrigued and wanting to know who he is but he also seams like Trouble.
Really good level of world building. Like, obviously I have questions! But you've done an excellent job of establishing the rules of this world really quickly and sans info-dump. I wouldn't if it were suggested a little more heavily just how shocking it is for the man to be speaking in the cafe (my brain assumed cafe thanks to the fact the man and woman are on a couch but I looked back over and I don't think you actually mention it. So if it's a cafe it's probably cool, but otherwise we could have a problem. Or I might just be being a little dim at the moment). Just before, we get mentions of Hilda talking, for example, and maybe just a few more subtle hints at the significance of talking to sort of really illustrate how his talking there is very much a Strange and Unusual Thing. I'm quibbling here because it's not a major issue and it does work nicely, but could potentially be strengthened?
Dialogue (both spoken and signed) felt nice and natural. I generally felt like I was in very competent hands while reading this which is always a reassuring feeling.
That's about all that springs to mind. This was a really strong piece, and if you do end up writing any more, I would be very keen to read it.
P.S. I noticed the work 'I am not a jigsaw' in the Related Items side bar and just had major flashbacks to reviewing it a few years ago. I don't really remember the piece itself but as soon as I saw the title I remembered writing that review (which I just had a look at and it's a pretty woeful review). Major blast from the past.
Wow! I really like your idea here. It's very different and unique from what I've read so far. To be good, a story has to have a big problem, and you defiantly got that down!
I would never have though about a world where it's taboo to speak if I hadn't read this. It shows that there are a lot of things that we really take for granted.
And when I think of things we take for granted, I usually think of food, clean water, having a roof over our heads. Again, I love that you didn't just do something generic.
I'm curious if this a distopian story, or if it takes place in present day. Wherever it is, it's a very intriguing story.
One thing I don't understand in the story is "Esther watched him turn and walk away, blood beating in her ears. Were her Esther's ears literally bleeding, or was that just a metaphor?
That's actually the only thing that I didn't understand. The plot was very good, in my opinion. I'm wondering if the man that asked Esther out will turn out to be a Gilliam. I mean, they didn't even know each other! But I kinda think that's another weird cultural thing. I can't wait to find out in the next chapter!
Hi, Corvid here for a quick review.
I really liked this story! The idea that talking is an intimate/taboo thing is intriguing, and I would love to learn more about the world this story takes place in. I really liked the character Hilda. I want to learn why/how she turned from such a vocal girl to someone who condemns strangers for talking in public.
To be *really* specific about something, I want to highlight this sentence:
"She looked towards the door, at the rain pattering slantwise against the glass."
I love this sentence. I think that the use of the word 'slantwise' is a really good choice here because by using it the reader is able to learn more about the weather than just the rain. There's wind as well, and this is good for developing the environment.
Some critiques:
I liked the beginning paragraph about Esther folding her napkin, but I found myself wondering if it's a cloth or paper napkin. It's nitpicky, I know, but I found that it prevented me from easing into reading the story. Establishing that the napkin is paper probably wouldn't add much to the story, but since it's at the beginning it might help make the story a bit easier to get into.
'She gulped more of her lemonade, the glass hard under her teeth.'
I can't describe exactly why, but I felt like the word 'gulped' was a bit clunky here. It's not bad, per say, but it stood out to me as I read it. Maybe make it 'gulped down'?
"It’s disrespectful, this part of town, Hilda signed."
Personally, I would change the dialogue to "It's disrespectful in this part of town." but I also don't have as good of an understanding into how Hilda speaks/signs.
Thank you so much for sharing this story! If you decide to continue this, I'd love to read it!
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