𝓦𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭?

Submitted into Contest #50 in response to: Write a story about a person experiencing pre-performance jitters.... view prompt

0 comments

General

Standing in the centre of the stage, I could hear the crowd snickering as soon as they heard I was one of the participants. If it had not been our principal, I doubt if they would have stopped.


Is it my fault that I have a speech impediment? Then why am I the one who keeps being bullied and outcasted? What the old woman said, is it true?


I met her on a spring afternoon around a week or so ago. I was sitting on the banks of the river Thames, my trembling hands covering my eyes as big heavy tears rolled down my pale, sweat-soaked face. " What is it dear? " Alarmed by the sudden voice, My headshot right up only to find a frail-looking woman looking at me with soft tender eyes. I'm pretty sure that she can very well smell the strawberry milk I'm covered in from head to toe, thanks to Alina.


Hearing her voice, I get a tingling sensation in my upper body. " You're so young," she said, her wrinkled hands, scattered with lines and sunspots brushing against my cheeks." You don't deserve to cry so much. "


" g - grandma! " I squealed pulling her to my embrace. " yes, it's okay, did something happen?" I manage to hold back my tears because I don't want grandma to feel sad because of me. Anyway, that's not how you want your first impression to be right?


My grandma doesn't live with us. She lives in an old age home. When she was little she used to lend a hand there cause she liked spending her time with people who had primitive thinking and when she got in her forties, as my father said, she moved in there to spend the rest of her life, being surrounded by people much older than her.


Ever since I was little, I have heard a lot about her and seen a lot of pictures. But honestly, her eyes contain much more love in real life than just stationary photos. I felt like I can talk to her about my problems. I mean that's what grandmas are there for right? For calming you? For soothing you? For making you feel loved?


Feeling this impulse I ended up telling her how hard I think everything for me is...

"grandma, wh-what's wrong with m-me? Why does everyone h-hate me so much!? Why d-do they keep bullying me!? Just be-because I stutter?" At this, a big tear manages to roll down my cheeks.

" No, It's because you let them do that. It's you who is not confident in yourself. You need to accept it as a part of yourself and everything will be fine. You need to show them who you are." 

The way she said that it seems like she's been there with me, ALL THE TIME. I like her. It's been hardly ten minutes since she got here but I like that she makes me feel like I'm being cared for...


" Who spilt the milk on you?" I shrugged as I don't even want to think about it. "Alina..." At this point, I couldn't even see properly, my eyes blurred because of the tears that were swelling up. 


"See, she bullies you because you allow her to do so. Promise me you'll never let them get the better of you?"

I nod stiffly thinking if I'm capable of doing so.


This was indeed the first time that I had seen her but it truly was a relief I did.

The way she said that It made me feel pointless. It feels like I'm the one who has allowed Alina and everyone else to get over me. To make me feel useless. To let them bully me...


Next thing I knew I was signing up for giving a speech on ragging and bullying. I was feeling proud because I had the nerve to sign up since I'm not exactly the person who'd be going out of my comfort zone and saying things that I mean to say. But here I am, feeling jittery. I took one last breath and started " M-most people don't r-realize how b-big of a problem th-this is. Bu-bullying is so common in our l-lives that we d-don't even realize it's h-happening. We b-believe it t-to be nor-normal, an everyday th-thing when it's not. Not e-even close."


An eerie silence surrounded me. Not one soul moved. Maybe it's because they had never seen this side of me. They had accepted the fact that I was inferior, I wasn't capable of speaking for myself. Now I know that it was me who allowed them to think that. Grandma was right. Taking a deep breath I continued again... " Why sh-should people give in t-to bullies? Why do w-we have to let them hurt us b-both, physically and m-mentally? Is it because we're di-different? Is it be-because we're not n-normal? What makes us different from them? What i-is normal? Who are they t-to decide who's normal

and who's n-not?" 


Right now, honestly, I didn't feel nervous at all. That nervousness, those jitters are long gone and the only thing I know is that at this moment I'm not just talking for myself but all the kids that are being tormented.


This gives me pride and a special kind of confidence that I'm not going to lose

any time soon...


Now, after 20 years I have overcome my stammering even though it feels weird without it, Like when you wear glasses all the time and end up losing it or something. It feels weird not having a rounded thing around your eyes right? That was me! As grandma said, I had quite magnificently accepted it as a part of myself, so, peculiarly enough

it felt like I had lost my nose or something. But soon I felt happy not having

to stammer again but that did not in any way change my thinking about bullying.


Every other month, I get invited to schools and colleges for speaking on this topic. Oh, of course, I'd be lying to myself if I said that I don't feel nervous, that jittery feeling is

always there, right there near my stomach but believe me, the thought of my Grandma and a long breathe sorts it all.

July 13, 2020 12:02

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

0 comments

RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

Bring your short stories to life

Fuse character, story, and conflict with tools in Reedsy Studio. 100% free.