Speak No More

My parents had sent me to a quiet school up in the mountains, where all the students just shuffle quietly from class room to class room making no sounds. Everything is deathly silent. The only sounds are the teachers speaking and the chalk on the chalk board.

We are not allowed to speak. I feel we’re barely allowed to breath. A loud sigh or a quiet groan, and we would be sent to detention where we’ll be told “talking” is a privilege to be earned not a right to be given.

The school building is gothic in architecture, having tall towers with wide ledges where stone gargoyles sat, large arched wooden doors with metal curls decorating it, and a few large stained glass windows. The largest is directly above the doors. A circle with fiery reds and dark blues, trying to imitate the setting sun and the dark night sky. In the center is a bright silver moon.

I had spent almost three years here, and had barely spoken a word. The only time we were allowed to speak is an hour before bedtime and after classes if we had a question. Most of the time the school is quite nice. The food was good and the rooms were comfortable. The whole place felt so grand and awe-inspiring.

The only thing is how horrifically quiet it is. Even the animals seemed to stay far away from the school. When we went out for horse back riding lessons it seemed even the horses were forced to follow this strange rule.

I had English period next, but I stopped to go to the bathroom. Disrupting class in any way was considered speaking and I refused to break that rule. It could get me sent back home, and I needed to stay here. My parents couldn’t afford to send me anywhere else. Just being given the opportunity to go to this school was a privilege I didn’t deserve.

When I was finished, I stuck my head out of the door and saw empty halls. I was late to class. I closed the door to the bathroom, my mind absolutely terrified. Being late to class was the second worst thing that I could have done.

They’ll notice I’m not there. I sit in the front seat! My breath started to quicken. This isn’t good at all!

I hoped I could slip into the classroom undetected. The door was closer to the back of the room, if the teacher had his backed turned I could rush in and be in my seat before he saw me come in. I sighed, I would probably end up in detention either way.

I was about to gather courage to slip out of the bathroom when I heard the principal and one of the teachers talking.

“We’re losing control. I caught several students passing notes! Barbara and Michael are having issues too. Someone didn’t show up for class yesterday, can you believe that! We need to put a stop to this.”

“Give me a list of names and I’ll see what I can do.”

“We need to teach them a lesson, sir! Expel some of these students. We can’t have them realize that….”

I didn’t hear anything else. Their voices faded as they past the bathroom and walked farther down the hall. I slid to the floor of the bathroom. Horrified. Expel students? That hadn’t happened before.

The worst I’d ever seen a student get was detention and double the amount of homework to do. Expelling a student for talking? I wondered, what’s so bad about talking? I had done it all the time before I came here.

Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about it before. Most of the time I just assumed it was because the teacher’s didn’t want us acting up. Was talking really such a privilege that it required expulsion? I took a deep breath, whatever the reason I wouldn’t be one of the those students.

I gathered my bag and made my way to my classroom. When I opened the door my teacher whipped around and glared at me.

“A week’s worth of detention, Miss Carter. Sit.”

I solemnly nodded and made my way to my seat. My cheek’s burning hot. I felt everyone side eyeing me. No one would dare look at me directly. I wondered if given the chance, would I have defended myself, asked for forgiveness, a second chance? I had never done something like that before.

I pushed the thoughts aside and opened my book. Those thoughts, I’m sure, could have gotten me expelled. In a way, they did.

Later that night, Lisa, Kim, and I were getting ready for bed.

“I can’t believe you were late.” Kim said, “Now, who’s going to help me with my math homework.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” I said, “Well, why can’t I help you during library time?”

“Because we’re not supposed to talk then. You know that.” Lisa said, giving me a look.

“Yeah, I know. But why? I’m helping you with your studies. You’d think the teachers would be okay with that kind of talking.”

Lisa shook her head, “If you get another week of detention don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She slipped under her cover and turned off her lamp light.

Kim and I looked at each other, “It’s okay, Cynthia. I’m sure Lisa and I can manage.” She gave me a smile before turning off her light, too.

That night I kept thinking about the “No Speaking” rule. How not just verbal words seemed forbidden, but written and non-verbal ones too. No writing notes or letters, no looking at each other during class, no groans or sighs or loud yawns.

It was all so strange. I was allowed to do all of that back home at my old school. Perhaps it was because it was such a prestigious school. Besides, I really shouldn’t risk doing anything to get me expelled. I mentally shut my mouth. No more talking. For my parents.

The next morning I was brought to the principal’s office.

The principal was a tall man with a head full of gray hair. He sat at his large oak desk shuffling through various stacks of paper, “Miss Carter, the penalty for not arriving to class on time is a week of detention.” The principal said, glancing at a folder, “Unfortunately, despite this being your first penalty, I cannot do anything to shorten it. You have been a mostly good student, A’s and B’s, however I cannot allow any tardiness for any reason. Is this understood?”

I nodded.

“Wonderful. Behavior like this will not be tolerated. Any following disruptive behaviors like this will result in more punishments and possible expulsion.” He said, “Understood?”

And without thinking I raised my hand.

He looked at me surprised, “Yes? Speak.”

“Why are we not allowed to talk freely between class times?”

“Because it is a time to focus on your studies not gab around with other students.”

“But what if other students could help us with our studies, like if we had a question about the class?”

“And why can you not ask the teacher?”

“Because some of them leave before we can go up to their desk to ask them or sometimes we can’t find them during library time.”

The principal sighed and leaned back in his chair, “Miss Carter, I wouldn’t expect a young girl to understand all the inner workings to make a school successful, a careful focus on studies will improve your life in multitudes of ways. Now, no more talking. Go back to class.”

“But—” I snapped my mouth shut.

The principal’s eyes widened, “Miss Carter, go to class.”

Shocked at myself, I simply nodded, picked up my bag, and left. I desperately wanted to know more, but I had other responsibilities. During detention, when I was pretending to study for my biology exam I started thinking of ways to get more answers. I considered the library, but I didn’t want anyone to know what I was looking up.

The librarian somehow seemed to know who simply touched a book and when they did it. I couldn’t risk getting seen with a book on the history of the school, not when the principal might be suspicious of me or possible expel me for speaking after he specifically told me not to.

So, that night when all the light’s where out I brought a bobby pin, a paper clip, and a small penlight and quietly made my way to his office. It was dark and eery and terribly spooky. The white moon shone through the stained glass windows. The brightness of the moon made all the shadows feel darker and so much more sinister.

Everything felt so much louder. I turned the handle to the principal’s office and found it unlocked. I stepped inside and quietly shut the door, before turning on the penlight. I hurried to his desk and riffled through it. Nothing important. Just pens, pencils, erasers, and blank sheets of paper.

I went over to the cabinets on the far side of the room and jiggled the lock open on them. I went through them my heart racing, the blood pounding in my ears. I found my name and pulled out my file, scanning through the sparse information.

It had my name and physical descriptors. On the second page were my grades and my teachers’s general thoughts on me. The third was an overview of my previous education and background on my parents. The fourth page made my heart stop. The fourth page was a letter and it began with ‘Mr. Higgins, Miss Cynthia Carter is now an orphan.’

I sat frozen in the principal’s office. The penlight still on, and in my mouth, lighting up a circle on the wall. The file in my hands. My head felt light. My stomach started to hurt. Orphan? How? I still get their letters. I mail them letters.

I quickly scanned the fourth page desperate to know what it meant.

“As stated in previous writings, Miss Carter’s parents are not up to the state’s standards nor the schools and have been deemed unfit to teach Miss Carter. Miss Carter will begin school at the beginning of the fall semester. After that her parents will see her no longer. This will benefit the child, allowing her to grow and become a stateswoman, as her tests indicate she will be a perfect fit for. Several years of fake letters have been drawn and written up.

“The Department of Education and Development thanks you for your time and effort teaching these poor children the proper ways….”

I barely was able to read the rest. Most of it was thanking the principal for taking in kids with poor parents who couldn’t give them a “proper” education.

My hands shook. I felt like throwing up. I closed my folder and placed it back where it belonged. I needed to get out of here, but where could I go? What could I do? The government was on the school’s side.

I picked out another folder. The same thing. I found Lisa and Kim’s folder. The same. Poor parents. Poor education. A fantastic opportunity to learn at a fantastic higher education school. Fake letters included.

This is why they didn’t want us talking. They didn’t want us to figure out how we all came to this school. How all of this had the exact same “special” opportunity. It wasn’t special. Just a sick way for the government to rid the place of the “poor and uneducated.”

Hatred formed in my heart for this place. I hated its cold walls and high ceilings. I hated its glass stained windows and tall pointed towers. I hated all of its room. The teachers, the principal. Everything about it disgusted me.

I had to do something. I looked at the open file cabinets. I had to tell the other kids here, tell them what I had learned and get them on my side. We had to do something. I wasn’t just going to sit around and let the school hurt more kids. Summer was almost here, which meant more recruiting, more kids, and fewer parents.

Suddenly, a light outside caught my eye. A flashlight shone through the glass on the door. I gave a gasp. I turned off the penlight and hurriedly picked up the files spread across the floor, but it was too late.

The principal’s office door opened, “Miss Carter, what are you doing here?” He asked. I was crouching on the floor with several files in my grip. My heart started to race.

“I—I—”

“Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. You have not right to speak.” The principal shouted.

The rage boiled inside me, “Yes, I do! I have a right to just as you do. You’re a disgusting monster! You killed my parents! You killed Lisa and Kim’s parents!”

“I’m making this world a better place by ridding it off nosy, loud, and annoying children like you.”

I rolled my eyes, “Why don’t you just expel me already? Yeah, I heard what you and that other teacher were saying. It’s only a matter of time before people start realizing what you’ve been doing. Killing parents? You’re going to get caught.”

The principal laughed, “You’re more dumb than I realized. If the government tells them that Mr. and Mrs. Carter never existed. Mr. and Mrs. Carter never existed.”

I felt a flash of heat in my chest, before I jumped toward him. He tossed what felt like erasure shavings at my face and I fell to the ground with a heavy thud, “Miss Cynthia Carter, you are now expelled.”

The world went black.

When I came to I found myself staring out at blue sky. I looked around me and almost fell off the ledge. I was perched on a wide ledge on top of one of the tall towers of the school. Chains wrapped around my arms and tied me down to the ledge. I sat the way a dog would.

Knowing I couldn’t fall off, I looked down. The ground was very, very far away. Too far away for anyone to hear me. But I tried anyways. I shouted and screamed and cried. Nothing. Below me were the mountain forests. Students rarely came this way only for horse back riding and that only happened on Tuesday. It was Thursday.

I tugged on the shackles as hard as I could desperate to free myself. Only to give up. Even if I could free myself could I even get down?

As night neared I felt my body grow colder and colder. Soon, I couldn’t move my fingers. I looked down. Stone slowly started to spread across my body. I could feel it on my feet and knees. It felt like my leg had fallen asleep and I just stood up. It tingled, until it burned.

My arms became numb before a fiery pain laced through them. I couldn’t feel my hands. My feet were numb. My back started to burn. I looked down. The chains had snapped but that didn’t matter anymore.

My stone hands, now shaped like a lions paw was carved into the stone ledge. I figured my feet were the same. I looked up at the shining silver moon. Pain shot through my back. I screamed as I felt heavy stone press down on me. Judging from the other gargoyles it was large stone wings.

My face went numb then the fiery pain. My mouth opened in a scream, and it stayed that way. My lips formed into an eagle’s beak open in the middle of a scream. My eyes glanced around desperate for something to grasp onto, anything but that ugly bright silver moon.

But I couldn’t move my head.

I don’t know how long I’ve been stuck like this. Perched on a stone ledge, staring up at the sky, with my mouth wide open.

The only thing I can control are my thoughts and my eyes. I can’t move anything else. I spent the first few days, maybe weeks trying to force myself to move. I couldn’t. Nothing worked.

Now I’m just stuck with my eyes staring at the sky and my mind creating plans trying to figure out who to break out of this stone cold prison. I will escape and this time I will not be silenced.