Vengeful flash-fiction piece read aloud in English
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
It was 2011, the year the earth quaked throughout a dis a Canyon. The lamp beside my desk swayed along with the crucifix draped around its shade. It was the same semester when you built me, what you called a cricket machine from old Beechwood, found along the pacific strand, there were pieces of wood with holes too soft and worn from the constant erosion of saltwater. You built a small box from the wood and gave it a motor. You used a brass wheel too, like the ones in music boxes. In fact, you had to take one from a porcelain music box. Your own mother had given you one that sung, You are My Sunshine. All you had to do was slow it down and it's staying low. All you had to do was run it backwards and it's saying, hi, the cricket machine of course made the noise of cricket makes at midnight. The kind of noise we hear from our Children when there is no response. How is school? Cricket sounds? But we were in college when you responded to the shape of my figure. Why don't you shave your legs? Let the record reflect, because I hate it. So, we went to Newport again and the sandcastles we built, spent their time collapsing After 10 years. Your apology finally arrived and with an abrupt force while we were sitting on old sinking sand stone, flies on your porch. In Highland Park. It had rained, but only in your neighborhood. Only on your street avenue 57 you can tell because it smelled of rain and your cannabis garden was wet with dew. The surrounding asphalt blocks were dry though. And so were our cars having come from a little target up the street. We bought beer there and had street tacos in its little parking lot. But now we were not eating tacos. We're talking about gender. How I'm unsure of mine. How you've always been unsure of yours. We talked about gender. How our spirits could be both binaries or it could be beyond those binaries. Indeed beyond then your apology came fast and strong. A surprise. A surprise like the cricket that had landed on the wall of your college apartment while we were reading chinese proverbs, han dynasty proverbs. You were apologizing for saying I wasn't attractive. Not your type. But does that apology mean you've changed your mind or you just knew you had said something? Only a **** head could lift your eyes from linguistics texts and study my face when I tell you I can't love you anymore than I already do. You apologized. You apologized because your knees had broken on your kid's trampoline. And the curse over your body was lifting. You apologized because you can catch a cricket in your hand but its song, it's all over the field