Peer Review by Madelyn_Catharine (United States)

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A Slight Fault In Words

By: MimiChoudhury

It was Teacher's day. The head girl and head boy had spent the entire day decorating...or rather...making the younger children decorate the school auditorium. After threatening them with dire consequences,  they had sat back at their classrooms;  and now, they sat at the front seats beside the principal who was busy in his loud admiration of their "great sense of responsibility" and "dedication to work". As the two heads sniggered softly to each other ,  a small girl of ten nervously stepped into the stage to perform the last performance of that auspicious evening. The girl trembled slightly as she looked down at the vast auditorium ; it was her first time... the first time she had been forced by her parents to hold the microphone in her hands. What was the poem she was forced to receive? Ah yes,  Daffodils! 

 Slowly , she inched closer  to the microphone , as the  suppressed tension  in her heart suddenly erupted through her lips.

But she couldn't stop.She must go on. That's what mother said. Stuttering...breaking at each and every word, her self confidence slowly started to creep away ; when she saw  some of the students pointing at her and calling her name's. But the word 'confidence' completely faded out of the little girl's mind , when to her utmost utmost horror, half of the teaching faculty began whispering and sniggering to each other. Her insides began to burn in shame and unhappiness, as she ran all the way down the stage, sobbing and crying bitterly because of the fact that she had been discovered. A huge monster seemed to have erupted inside her stomach, growling , screaming and slowly extinguishing her self morale and confidence. The secret, that she had tried her best hide all these years, was out...and they were all taunting and calling name's at the failure.

The great failure who didn't even know how to speak properly. The failure, who had no idea of hiding her weak content with the outside charishma of speaking.

That little girl of ten suffered from acute depression after that incident. She refused to come out of her room...she was afraid..afraid to talk, to stammer, to become a FAILURE AGAIN!! But the major question here is ; is being a person who stammers directly connected to failure? 'Cuz if that was true, Marlyn Monroe could not have taken over the world with her charishma, and Emily Blunt could never win the Golden Globe Award.

The little girl knew that she was different from others....different...the meaning of the word has changed so much in the past four years. Yes, I was different. Different in many aspects. I did not require to wrap my weak content with any outside charishma, because, when has a shiny apple with a rotten core ever brought success?

I was myself. Yes I stammered. So what? Stammering is neither a disease, nor an infection , nor is it anything to be ashamed of . Then why should I be afraid of it?

But sometimes, my eyes flush up with tears of an unknown shame and fury, as I picture the ten year old me running away from the stage with cries of shame, as all the children and teachers taunted her. The difference between the two was that my classmates taunted me directly to the face ; and the teachers...they taunted me behind my back.
So many developments have taken place in the world in the past few years, then why, why do some STILL think that stammering or stuttering is the end of the world? The question remains unanswered....


Message to Readers

This is my story....I was literally cutting onions while writing it....



Last Exam!!!!!!!!!!

Peer Review

This piece drew me in with a sense of familiarity. Haven't we all felt that our differences are what make us weak? Hasn't society taught us that? The moment I read this, I felt my heart swell with recognition; my mind kept whispering "You know this pain" because I do. I continued reading simply because I wanted to see how you chose your story to end. How did you use that pain and suffer to lift yourself up because pain isn't easy and holding on only makes it worse. Your piece intrigued me because it was like reading the pain I'd felt too many times to count. You wrote about an incident, an incident about you, that related to so many others. You seemed to scream, you are not alone without even uttering those words.

People are cruel and even as confidence starts to slip away, we have to stand because we can make the weight of the world look like wings.

Emotion, definitely. You spoke with such ache, a need to tell the world it's faults, because a little girl or boy should never have to feel this much sorrow out of a mistake or difference by both "matured" adults and children. Reading these words, I was shot back to every mistake, every ounce of pain and failure, every difference that was ever pointed out. It was beautiful in such a bitter way.

Tell about how YOU answered the question. You end with an unanswered question, but through your experiences I'm sure that you've thought of an answer whether it was an answer based off anger at the world or sadness for being different or just a plain answer. Why do people think it's the end of the world? Is it because difference in such a bleak and gray society is like a shot of reality and society can't accept that? Is it because everyone else is reminded of their own faults when others can stand proudly despite theirs?

Don't you ever let someone push you down and tell you you aren't good enough because they have no right. They have no right to tell you you can't be beautiful with a difference. Stutter or not, let your voice ring loud. When someone pushes you down, stand up, smile, and say "I'm so very sorry that you have to push others down so you can be seen as the tallest." Keep talking. Keep writing. Keep being heard because if you can stand despite such an awful experience and memory then you are encouraging others to do the same. Give us an answer to that question and shout it to the world because there are people who deserve to know that answer and you deserve to give it to them.

Reviewer Comments

I look forward to your other writings and I hope that you continue playing your strength which, is case you didn't know, is writing with such sheer emotion. Play that card and share your storied through emotions, through laughter and sobbing, bitterness and anger, numbness and overwhelming, sorrow and joy. Continue. Playing. That. Strength.