What You Do Speaks So Loudly Novels & Stories

I spoke the true name. Not loudly. Not as a command. The way you speak the name of someone who has been lost and is within earshot. The way you speak when you want to be heard but not to impose. With the full honest weight of what you mean and none of the strategy around what you want in return. The room responded.

Speak to your senses that thou might establish an eternal connection with thyself. Speak to yourself that when no one is there, thy own words shall console thee. " Speak to your problems... Say "This phase shall pass and I shall be firm throughout this test. " Speak to your achievements... Say "I did it. May it not get into my head and If I will brag and drag about it, may I not have it." Speak to your fears. Say" I am enough. I can do the unimaginable because I believe I can. " Speak to your dead conscience. Say "Let us live by new dictates and let morality guide our path."

‘Some things can’t be avoided. I retort, ‘Yeah? And some things can!’ “Keya!” Grammy demands. Oh God. He huffs, annoyed, looking from me to her. Then shrugs, giving me a nonchalant look saying. ‘Try it with her.’ The hell? ‘What for?’ I ask. He says sternly, ‘Because actions speak louder than words.’ He’s fuckin nuts! He wants me to try to mindlink her?! I slowly gaze her way. She’s not going to leave me alone until I answer her, sigh...

“Sloane, I just—” “You just told me something important, and I heard you, and I’m not going to make a speech about it because speeches are performative, and you literally just said you’re tired of performing.” I didn’t look up from my phone. “So instead, I’m going to do what I do, which is find information and organize it until it becomes useful.” He was quiet for a beat. “You’re insane,” he said. “I’ve been told.” “In the best way.” “I’ve been told that too. Less often.”

I was starting to resent what he used it for. I wrote about it on the blog that night. Not directly – never directly. About loving someone who speaks fluent silence. About the difference between a man who's quiet because he's at peace and a man who's quiet because he's built a soundproof room inside himself and locked the door from the inside. About wanting to break in and knowing that breaking in would shatter the only structure keeping him upright.

He pauses, a soft, almost invisible smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Well, here we are. Twenty-five years later. I tell her I love her five times a day, maybe more and she scoffs at me like I’m annoying ” That smile grows a little, like he doesn’t mind being scoffed at. “Sometimes, what a person does will always mean more than what they say. Especially in this life of ours. Words can be cheap. Action always speaks louder.” He finishes, and I let the silence settle. Let the truth of what he said wrap around me.

A Silent Year If you measured a year by words spoken, mine would barely fill a notebook. I went to lectures. I did my homework. I worked my shifts. I smiled when someone held the door and said “thank you” when someone offered help. But I barely spoke unless I had to.

“What do I do? My hands are actually shaking. I feel like I’m going to throw up.” “You don’t want him back. Just say no.” “Any tips on how to say it so he actually hears it this time? Because the last ten times I asked him to leave me alone apparently didn’t stick.” She was quiet for a second. In the background, someone laughed, probably one of her coworkers. Finally, she sighed. “Straight up. Tell him to kick rocks. Or, better yet, don’t tell him anything. Ghost his ass. Silence is louder sometimes.” Talking it out actually cleared a little of the fog in my head.

"Take off your clothes outside and disinfect yourself before you come in." I froze, thinking he was worried about me. The next second, he added, "Natalie's here. If you bring any bacteria inside, she could get sick." My head buzzed again as my voice trembled. "I just buried my mother. Am I unclean because of that?" Josh froze, then sighed. "That's not what I meant. It's just that…Natalie…" He looked conflicted. His tall frame blocked the doorway, as if he wouldn't let me in unless I agreed.

I said quietly. No one heard it as the arguments continued. “If this company doesn’t project strength—” “We deserve transparency—” “Enough is enough—” “Stop,” I tried again. Still nothing as the noise swallowed my voice. Frustration surged through me now. “Enough!!!” My voice cracked through the room like thunder. Silence fell instantly. Every head turned toward me. I stepped foward and lifted my chin meeting their eyes one by one. “Can I speak now?”