Unsigned Books

A Modern-Day Fairy Tale

Around that time, the King and Queen most likely had only one week left to live. They knew it. The birds knew it. The bees knew it. Even educated flees, they knew it. The members of the court and everybody in the land knew it. There was not a soul alive who did not know it. There was no cure. Nobody could save the Royal couple. And frankly, most could not even care less. Not that anybody hated the King and Queen. Far from it, everybody loved them. Everybody was going to die. Everybody was either ill or soon to fall ill. There was no ‘if’ there was only ‘when’. 

Gunnar must have been around forty-five years old. Both his children started showing the first signs of the virus. His wife had left him years before the first deaths. They hardly ever spoke anymore. Not even now. The lives of his two beautiful kids were in grave danger. Still, she would not talk to him. For all he knew his ex-wife was showing the same signs as them. After all, she had been with the kids for a week. He did not care about her. Surely, she must have noticed. Yet, she hadn’t bothered to tell him. Now his life was on the stake as well. His son and daughter would most likely die within a fortnight. They did. So did his ex-wife. Gunnar did not. That was odd. 

Geb was an ugly kid with few friends and many bullies. They had always taunted him everywhere he went. He witnessed his parents dying even within a couple of days. The virus had struck them like a lightning bolt. It had struck them hard and fast. Geb had already accepted his faith. Even before the signs had become apparent, he was ready. When dad came home one day after a hard day at the mill, it was clear to him he had caught it. Doctors would say dad was contaminated. Dad passed it on to mom. Soon Geb would follow. He did not. His parents died. He lived. 

Zaia had just come home after a night at the Comedy Inn Theatre. She was still laughing. Also, she was wondering why nobody else in the audience had laughed. The play was not at all that bad. Her best friend, whom she had grown up with and was going to college with, had not smiled at all. True, it was an older comedy performed more often. Most must have seen it before. She had. It was still good. The cast was great. Everyone – including the cast and her best friend – died within the timespan of three weeks. She did not.  

Gwen was oblivious to everything. She did not pay any attention when her boyfriend started showing the first signs of contamination. No signs of concern when his behaviour changed overnight. She wrote it off as a bad mood. It only got worse in the days after. A new dress she had seen wanted buying. Off she went to paint the town. Her boyfriend died while reading an old book. They had been together for two years. Lying lifeless on the sofa when she came home. The authorities were called to come and collect him. Gwen was examined but nothing was found. Not the slightest signs of contamination. It left the medical men baffled. They died within a month.  

Gunnar came home from a long day. His kids were sitting on the couch. They seemed engaged in a difficult conversation. He clearly interrupted something.  

“Sorry I am late. Too much mud on the roads.” 

“Dad, please do not say that word,” his daughter Helga screamed. 

“Sorry, which word exactly? Mud? Roads?” 

“Dad, I asked you not to say it. Stop it!” 

“What is wrong with mud or roads?” 

“Dad, it is wrong on so many levels. How can you be so blind!? You are so inconsiderate.” 

Her brother and she stormed off to their rooms. Gunnar knew. It was too late to save them. Despite his fear for his own life, he stayed strong. The authorities would not be called. They would take away the kids. He wanted to be with them till the end. Even if it would be his as well. He was pretty thick skinned and did not let it get to him. Such was life. 

When father came home, Geb was sitting by the fire. He heard the door open. Dad had his this concerned look on his face. He took off his coat. Kicked off his shoes. Looked at his son. His son looked back questioningly.  

“Why do people not think before they speak!” 

“What happened, dad?” 

“Just some intolerant guys at work saying things about this and that and so and so.” 

“I am glad you are home.” 

“Do not start on me, too.” 

“I am sorry, dad.” 

“Please, do not say things like that. You know how they upset me.” 

“Shall I make dinner?” 

“That is enough. You bastard. Go upstairs.” 

Geb went. It slid right off his back. He had been called worse. The name calling got worse within a week. Mom started on him, too. All they said to him were mean words. But he could take it. Sticks and stones he would say to himself.  

She wrote her own comedy plays. Her jokes were mostly political. Zaia knew how to criticise society in subtle ways. Hopefully, one day her plays would be published and performed. Her hopes were diminishing. Seeing the state of affairs, chances were getting slimmer by the week. Her best friend talked to her about it.  

“You know you should not write these kinds of things.” 

“I wish you were a little more supportive of my work.” 

“See, there you go again. Always using offensive words. Writing should be forbidden.” 

“Well, at least I know how to write.” 

Their relationship deteriorated. As well as her best friend’s mental health. Soon she would become mute. First the list of forbidden words would get longer and longer. Everything would be offensive, inconsiderate or wrong on so many levels. Then her mind would stop functioning properly. Fearing every word, she would no longer utter any. Then she would become catatonic. An empty shell. A shadow of her former self. Next, her brain would have a meltdown. Partly brain dead at first. Vital functions would continue for a while. Then her body would give up. Zaia herself would not succumb to sadness. Keeping her wits and making fun of life and everything else in the universe. Even the death of her former best friend. 

“How do you like my new dress?” 

But response there came none. 

“Don’t you like my new shoes?” 

Still nothing.  

“Fine, be like that. I am going out. Enjoy the evening sulking.” 

Gwen left without a word. Liam died.  

Half of the population has passed away at the time of writing. The virus has spread like. People see fault in even the most innocent of words like, you know. It has spread through the newspapers. It has spread by word of. Words are considered inconsiderate. They are offensive. People are intolerant. At first authorities tried to introduce new words. This way they postponed a … deaths. Mostly their own. They eventually died … . 

The problem does not lie in the words. The problem lies in reality. For reality soon catches. New words are soon as bad as the. New words cannot come fast enough. Language … not keep. Nobody realises that language … not the problem. What people think of the language … the problem.  

Only those with thick skins like that … an elephant. People with smooth backs who let words just … right off them. A good … of humour. Those with something that … used to call a dry heart. It … those … who probably will … this … virus. They do not mind the … … . … … are mostly ignored. Few … are catching … and mending their … . It … … time  … … before it … too late.  

The …