Title Wave

The day began sunny enough. The crisp white pages of Inkland reflected the fluorescent bulb that hung from the sky. The folk that lived in Inkland, known as Letters, came in all shapes and sizes. Some were loud and wouldn’t let the other letters get a word in; others were silent and passive. But on this particular day, Letters of all sorts gathered together by one common factor: they were all going to be erased.

Oh yes, on that chaotic yet cruelly sunny day, hundreds of Letters lost their lives, and still others were left without lines. It was perhaps the worst disaster in Inkland history since the addition of the Grapes of Wrath complex back in 1939. Letters to this day remember the Great Title Wave that nearly destroyed them all.

We begin this day with a Letter called Elle. She was a lovely Letter, as skinny as a twig from top to bottom. Her friends CeeCee and Oprah were constantly commenting on it, and today was no exception. Elle merely shrugged their comments off as she set her backpack down on Oprah’s banana-colored couch. The three girls then left Oprah’s house and headed for the ABC Elementary School, where they often spent their afternoons tutoring the kids in reading, writing, and spelling.

Today turned out to be different. Just as Elle and her friends turned on to Lois Lane, the usually steady ground crackled and shifted, shaking the residents of Inkland like a martini. Elle clapped her hands to her ears to block out the haunting sounds of screams and shattering glass. Before she closed her smoky grey eyes, she saw that CeeCee and Oprah were holding each other tightly and sobbing. Then, just seconds after it began, the rumbling abruptly stopped. Faces peered cautiously out of window panes and the few brave souls who came outside inspected the damage to their homes. The lead paint on their houses was chipped, but other than that it was if the shaking had never happened.

“Oh my word! That was terrifying!” CeeCee exclaimed, trying to fix her smudged makeup.

“I wonder, what could have caused that?” Elle said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before.”

“Well whatever it was,” Oprah squeaked, “it scared the heck out of me.”

The friends continued on their path to the school. They came to a field known locally as the Green Mile. Plush grass rolled on forever, broken only by clusters of red, blue, and black doodle flowers. Elle plucked a red flower and twirled in between her long fingers, thinking about the disruption earlier. What had caused such a disturbance? She turned on to Elm Street and sighed.

Splash!

Her thoughts were pushed out of her mind as she looked up to see Elm Street in shambles. Half-erased Letters lay on the normally pristine lawns, clinging onto weeds and handfuls of grass for dear life. Charcoal water crept up the page, destroying anything it touched. The girls stood helplessly as it crawled closer and closer before finally snapping out of the spell and booking it back to the Green Mile.

“Oh my gosh! What are we going to do?” Oprah wailed, her round frame quivering. Level-headed as always, Elle came up with a brilliant plan.

King Stephen lived at the very end up Less Traveled Road in a great Emerald palace. Elle figured that more than anyone, he should know what to do. A guard reluctantly admitted them, and they ran down the red carpet towards the throne.

“King Stephen,” Elle wheezed, bowing, “there is a situation on Elm Street.” She hastily described the scene under the horrified gaze of the king. When she was done, she looked up at him, her eyes begging for a solution.

“Hmm, there is certainly a nightmare on Elm Street.” King Stephen paused in thought, then shook his head. “My child, I am at a loss for words right now. I don’t believe there is anything we can even do about this.”

“What? But we have to do something!” Elle exclaimed, and her friends murmured their agreement behind her. The king shook his crowned head.

“I am sorry. If it were not natural, I could probably do something about it, but it is natural, so I can’t.” He turned his back to the girls and began muttering animatedly to himself. CeeCee cleared her throat. King Stephen turned back to them. “Oh, you’re still here. Well I’m sorry. I can call a national evacuation and we shall all move to higher ground.”

Hours later, every Letter in Inkland was crammed in the topmost left space. Elm Street had been completely washed away, and the few survivors lay moaning in pain on the ground. People with some medical knowledge tried to ease the suffering, but in hushed groups they spoke of ink poisoning that would make treatment difficult.

Those who were fortunate enough to be able to sleep did. Many screamed out for lost loved ones as they dreamed. Those who could not sleep sat in sad circles, fatigue crossing their eyes and tears dotting their tees. Many families huddles together, adults watching over wide-eyed children and speaking softly of the missing or deceased. Occasionally, a child would begin to cry; the worn parents would try their best to soothe the hungry child.

Elle sat on the cold dirt with CeeCee and Oprah, the three of them watching the families try to cling to sanity. When the sun arose, they didn’t move, but rather held each other as if they were holding onto hope. Hope and each other were all they had as they watched the murky water creep up towards the margin where they all resided.

The water never stopped. When there was a mere foot until it washed away the lowest-dwelling people, the girls let loose their untold emotions.

“I’m sorry I told the teacher that it was you who pulled the fire alarm.”

“I’m sorry I broke your record player.”

“I’m sorry I told everyone you liked Jay.”

They forgave each other, when once again the ground shook violently. This time was infinitely worse than the quake from the day before, changing from a low growl to a deafening roar within seconds. Panic ensued and children screamed. Then, a miracle happened.

“Look!” Elle shouted over the noise. Those around her looked to where she was pointing, then began to rejoice. The water that had almost nipped the heels of the bottommost families was beginning to drain. After a few minutes, it was at the very bottom of the margin and it wasn’t stopping. Soon all of the murderous substance was gone, replaced by a warm wind that dried the Letters’ faces and rumpled the feathery hair of stunned infants.

The shaking stopped and the Letters all cheered, rushing down the and into the welcoming grass. They didn’t care that everything was gone because they had their lives and each other. The next few months would be filled with rewriting, but for now, it was good to be alive.

Elle smiled to herself as CeeCee and Oprah ran down with the others. She looked to the sky and gave thanks to some Higher Power before celebrating with her people below.

And all was right again in Inkland.