She laid her hand to one side as the first drop landed. Like a tiny, fluid bomb, it detonated upon the page, leaving a cornflower-blue crater in the prose. Another followed. Then the next... and the next...
The sheet of paper before her was now pockmarked with the fruits of her frustration. Teeth gritted, face hardened and reddening, eyes huge and maddened, she cried silently. Inside their sockets, the balls twitched and strained terrifyingly, as if the blood vessels threatened to break free. Her lips were pulled taut and dry, even as her chest fluttered in a gruesome parody of grace.
She tried to fling the page away from her, but it simply drifted about arm's length away, settling mockingly on the ground seconds later.
And here she was, simply proving everything that prowled in the back of her skull. The emotion had overcome her, and this realisation made her angrier still. From somewhere came a howl, dying softly as she caved in to hyperventilatory gasps. The heat rising from inside her head was drying the tears on her cheeks now. She could yield no more liquid.
Aiode put a hand to her head, rubbing in the drying tears against her cheeks. The crying had worn her out. As she bent to retrieve the paper, her heart continued to thrum. She read over the sheet of paper again.
'I think that the critic is incorrect in making this judgement because the writer has after all written and published a story, so is it not paradoxical to say that this is a novel extensively treating the failure of language to convey powerful emotion, especially given that the novel deals with such themes as trauma and guilt?'
She laughed. Her eyes blurred. She looked at the question on the bottom of the sheet again. The words disintegrated before her eyes. She saw movement – very, very slow – and ruptured; as though witnessing the action of dynamite in slow-motion.
They curled up, like maggots trying to roll themselves onto non-existent feet. She blinked again – it would not stop. She screamed as some broke themselves off from the rest, rising up, up, upwards. She could see them – just about – rising, rising, rising –
They loomed over her –
PARADOXICAL. POWERFUL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL.
Again and again and again.
She screamed more, but it was hurting her as they closed in.
PARADOXICAL. POWERFUL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL.
They threw her to the ground and then they began to work together.
PARADOXICAL. POWERFUL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL.
So many minute insertions! Tiny, perfectly formed hands that tore out the strands of her hair!
PARADOXICAL. POWERFUL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL.
The skin beneath her eye throbbed pathetically as they kicked her face, again and again.
PARADOXICAL. POWERFUL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL. LANGUAGE. NOVEL.
LANGUAGE. LANGUAGE. LANGUAGE.
They were climbing the stairs. She sat up, bleeding.
'Where are you going?' her mouth asked. From her throat came a burst of unshaped air. Something stamped, hard and deep, embedding itself in her stomach. Her eyes grew out of her head, seeking heaven. The thought came over her that no sound had left her this whole time and yet her mouth had been opening... each and every time...
LANGUAGE. LANGUAGE. LANGUAGE.
The piece of paper with her writing on crackled briefly before her, intruding upon her moment of epiphany, applying itself over her mouth, her nose. She saw them pause at the top of the stairs, all interlinked.
LANGUAGE.
A leap.
LANGUAGE.
Understanding.
LANGUAGE.
Holding each other tight, they landed – square on her face. It wasn't enough. Her tears and blood flowered over the paper as they applied themselves to her skull once more with vigour.
LANGUAGE!
'So arbitrary. So arbitrary. Will you ever learn?'
LANGUAGE!
Acceptance set in, almost like peace but not enough, as the life began to leave her.
LANGUAGE!
The blood pooling around her head paused, arrested at her wrist, where a tattoo was slightly raised, on reddened skin, as if recently done.
'Like a dog!' it read.
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