The Misplaced Tongue
It is believed that all of human innovation is a blessing dripped from the magnanimity of the super Deity sitting in high places and using our wisdom as his personal rag. From the invention of electricity, to the exploration of other plantets, the development of technology and subsequent infrastructural advancement to the development of lingua.
There are some who are of the school of thought that the twisting of the tongue to produce diverse forms and types of speech is a curse handed down by the great Deity on disobedient and curious humans who just did not understand the limits of their powers as stipulated in their creation.
But language is just one form of the human evolution process and one that is not also directly rooted in archaic history. Or so thought the young man relaxing on his bamboo seat and staring blankly at the horizontal expanse of tar in front of him. His thoughts drifting in a thousand different directions, searching the depths of his soul and reasoning for means redemption.
One of the other forms of human evolution is the means of pleasure and enjoyment devised by vain minds and heralded as creative by the lazy and mundane reasonings of this woke generation.
The introduction of intoxicating elements to soothe the misery of many a weary and depressed minds has become sport and fashionable for a people dying slowly, but smiling widely and wildly.
This I knew even as I dived consciously into the ocean of free-to-fall destruction of the mind through the indulging and satisfaction of the vanity of the flesh. I had indulged my friends in an intoxication journey, swirling in the waters of alcohol as a bird would slide its wings to the graces of a gentle breeze while flying high; just as I was getting high.
We all thought we were on a roll, proving how acquainted we were with the forbidden in a competition that were to bear grave consequences for some of us. I personally was really engrossed to the extent that my tongue escaped its cage in the premises of my brain.
It went on a wanton rampage in a sport we loosely referred to as "banter". This had continued throughout our stay in the dome of disgrace popularly called "a bar" that I couldn't differentiate between fellow intoxicated sportsmen at the dome and the presence of our school colleagues in our studio.
I felt victorious and all conquering as I squashed any opponent who dared to raise their tongue as a sword against me in battle and was cheered on by fellow colleagues as a legend.
At that moment, the respect and confidence that my colleagues bestowed on me had escaped my flaming memory and I lost touch of 'what should be said' and 'what shouldn't be said' up until a close confidante joined the fray and dared to clog the nostrils of the elephant in the room and I verbally sneezed him out like a bug.
At that moment, the whole room became silent. I had touched a too personal issue and had spilled a close friend's secret as I basked in the euphoria of highness. It was as if the veil was lifted from my face and my senses retreated to its default status.
I scanned the room hopeful that someone would understand that "I was high", but all I saw were heads shook in disappointment and disbelief at my loose tongue just as my friend stormed out of the hall head withdrawn.
This had happened a night before, almost 24 hours earlier, but as I sat on that bamboo chair staring blankly at the horizontal expanse of the road that led to my school, I felt the guilt of my misdemeanor wash all over me.
The dualized road gave a true definition of my situation with my friends and colleagues in school, we were on opposite lanes, divided by a concrete of modesty and the light of mutual confidence. In the twinkle of an eye, I went from the confidante extraordinaire to persona non grata.
I stood up and felt a pang of pain in my head as my face came in contact with the rays of the receding ball of the sun, looked around to regain consciousness of my surroundings and then went inside, knowing that from the next day, I begin my journey towards redemption, determined to fulfill it no matter how hard it gets.
Welcome to my blog, you can relax and be rest assured of quality content on diverse topics. You're free to air your views and opinions in the comments section, and It'll be my pleasure to learn and engage
This is perhaps the most scholarly and erudite creative nonfiction story we have seen to date in The Ink Well, @diikaan. You clearly have a love of words — and as your story illustrates — a keen ability to wield them!
The story shines through your scholarly treatment of the topic, showing us in sharp relief that painful and terrible moment of self-revelation when you realized your words had sliced deep.
But, as a tip, we advise that you make sure your love of elaborate phrasing does not stand in the way of creating an immersive experience. Readers love real things, and sensory details that create a scene and a mood. They are more captivated by a writer's ability to paint a picture than they are by a writer's ability to write erudite or clever sentences.
Did the bar smell of pine and malt? Were you surrounded by a crowd of eight young men and women, all toasting one another with cocktail glasses tinkling with ice? Were the women's glasses tinged with lipstick? What did they say in conversation? Was there a moth that incessantly buzzed against the light that hung over the bar?
Every writer has a personal writing style, and each writer must decide how to cultivate their writing voice. We offer these hopefully helpful insights to support your writing journey, whatever you decide.
Thank you very much @theinkwell , the tips are very much valid and I'm still growing, so I'll definitely inculcate these.
Again, thank you for this platform and your endless strive to help us become better.
Sometimes the mistake we make, leaves on us an unforgettable scars in the form of memories. But we should always be ready to count some cost, before we do anything.
And we should also know that mistake is not the end of life.
I can relate to how you felt when your words came flooding out of control. These are consequences of over indulgence in intoxicating substances. Your friends will surely understand. They were just surprised you went too far. Interesting read.
Well structured story. I enjoyed it and the narrative style you implored was perfect. Well-done for this great story, you got me on my chair.
I'm glad you liked it. Thank you for the nice words
My pleasure dear.
This got me for reals... There's obviously no lies there in what you just said.
We think it sooths our depression but unknown to us that we just keep drawing our deaths nearer and we do that smiling from cheek to cheek, so sad.
😂😂😂 I can relate to how uncomfortable it could be when we divulge information we shouldn't have when we are intoxicated, it just seems as if a wave of the alcohol leaves us 😂
You're really a great writer
I am #DREEMER and I Popped in via @dreemport
I'm sure you will be a good writer. you do it well, I could sweat a few scenes.
greetings from dreemport.
Congratulations, @diikaan!
This great story was chosen as one of this week's best stories. Thanks for writing it. It is part of the Featured Authors Magazine number 111