The UNSPOKEN

For what purpose do we kiss to show affection?

Placing our lips upon another seems insignificant at a glance

Unsanitary and unbecoming in some standards

But the mouth is life, for it breathes and speaks

Every time I kiss you, I breathe a little life into you

When you kiss me back, I can only hope

That you breathe a little life back into me.

A short man sat beneath a large oak, clutching his bandaged arm that leaked a golden hue, as did many spots under his surreptitious clothing. Breathing was a pain, as the various gashes under his brown cloak reminded him. He sighed and leaned his head back, gazing through the trees to the rising sun, and closed his eyes.

A woman sat at her small stand. The center square was the perfect spot for business, various crowds and people always strolled past and occasionally even bought some of the fruits of her labor. Fruits with the perfect ripeness and quality weren’t easy after all. As the day was coming to a close, and she was on the last of her stock, a man in a cloak approached her stand. He grabbed the last of her items, an assortment of fruits, and placed them one by one into a large wooden crate. Excited, skeptical of a big purchase like this coming from such a seemingly humble man, she prompted him for payment. Her demeanor changed as the man brandished a large knife, but extended to confusion and shock as he held it to his forearm and sliced the blade straight down its length. Dozens upon dozens of gold coins dropped onto the stand, and the man bandaged his arm and left. The woman would never farm again.

The leaves rustled as the man sat. He could hear the first songs of the birds of morning. He could imagine himself flying amongst the sky and joining in the eventual choir, but it would not change anything. Even still, he pondered on, the rest of them joining in one by one.

After the disappearance of the woman’s stand rumors began to circulate amongst the small town. There was no conceivable way she could obtain such a vast amount of wealth from a small farming venture, and the boy sought to find out for himself. He was young, only around 15, but incredibly strong willed. After his father had passed and with his mother falling ill it was up to him to provide for his siblings. She confronted the woman, and after some convincing he came to learn about the man, or rather what little info he could get. After some time he spotted him heading into the pub. He matched the description, jet black hair with a short and scruffy beard, a bit on the shorter side, and a white bandage wrapped around his left forearm, the slight golden hue radiating from its surface was easy to miss but practically a beacon for the boy. While the boy was indeed strong-willed, he was still young. His recklessness as he snuck behind the man and ripped the bandage off would cause nothing but chaos to unfold. Gold splattered the floor as the man desperately clutched his arm. The crowd erupted as each person desperately tried to get to the gold and eventually the fountain of his bleeding arm. 

The man smiled and began to chuckle as he stared into the sky. He wanted to fly. He listened to the growing symphony of songbirds and brandished his knife, wincing as the painful gashes laughed at him.

The crowd evolved into a cesspool of violence, and with the growing chaos both the boy and the man sought to escape. The boy, realizing his mistake, saw an opportunity and yanked the man, sprinting out the door of the pub, reapplying the bandage as they ran. After rushing through the town with bits of coins trailing behind them, a full on riot formed. The boy and the man seized the opportunity and fled to an empty shed on the outskirts of town. The duo slumped down, completely exhausted. The man thanked the boy as he caught his breath, not realizing he ripped the bandage off. He closed his eyes and as he was catching his breath he felt it. A cool and solid strike piercing his abdomen, and then again, and again, and again. His eyes darted open to see the boy pulling out the man’s knife from his stomach, showers of golden coins erupting from it. The boy apologized profusely as he gathered them into a bag he found in the shed. He explained his family, how poor they were, and explained how the man was too good of an opportunity to pass up. After filling the bag, the boy apologized one last time and bandaged the man sloppily before rushing out of the shed. The man, thankful that bleeding could be so easily stopped with his curse, quickly continued to patch himself up before limping outside. The sun was beginning to rise.

Tears began to flow from the man’s eyes as his chuckles turned into whistling, singing with the songs of the birds. The sun rose as the man raised his knife.

The traveler has always admired nature and its intricacies. The sun had finally finished rising, and as the birds finished their early morning symphony he could not believe the sight in front of his eyes. At the bottom of a large oak rest a brown leather cloak and a pile of pure gold coins. The man collected them, wondering who would leave such valuables unattended. He continued onward, wondering what other treasures the future may hold.