The Words That Don’t Twist: A Short Story of Ramon and Monica
Ramon hated letters. To him, words were like trickster wizards—shifting shape, vanishing, transforming into things they weren’t supposed to be. When he looked at his schoolbooks, the sentences danced, flitting between sense and nonsense. He often thought that words were alive, slipping from their places just to mess with him. Some kids could race across a page and make it through in seconds. But not Ramon. For him, every sentence was a bog he had to trudge through.
It was a gray November afternoon when Ramon was out by the river, hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched his breath form clouds in the chill air. His dark, windswept hair, layered in rugged, stormy waves, fell across his eyes as he skipped stones across the river’s surface. His warm brown skin seemed to catch the low sun in an earthy, quiet glow, making him stand out against the gray backdrop.
That’s when he saw her, sitting alone on a flat stone by the water. She had dark curls framing her face, her gaze fixed on the horizon, and a notebook balanced on her knees. She didn’t seem to notice him, or maybe she didn’t care. But something in him whispered, *go over.*
“Hi,” he managed, his voice low, unsure. She looked up and smiled, her eyes lighting up, but she didn’t say a word. Instead, she held up her notebook, her handwriting looping across the page in dark ink: *Hello. My name is Monica*
Ramon blinked, piecing it together. She was deaf. She could only communicate with him through the notes she wrote. And though he wasn’t one for reading, something about her handwriting… calm and sure, like gentle waves— kept him reading on.
They spent the afternoon talking—or rather, writing. He would speak, she would scribble a response. She was patient when he hesitated over words, trying to make sense of the sentences she wrote. He would stumble on longer words, feeling silly, but she would simply smile, waiting, as if time was no worry.
The more he read her notes, the more his world changed. Words weren’t so frightening when they came from her. They felt softer, more like whispered secrets than a battlefield he had to fight through. But one day, Monica held up a note that shook him.
*I have a problem, it read,* her handwriting steadier than he’d ever seen. And I need you to solve it.
Ramon’s heart picked up, his dark eyes full of sudden focus. A puzzle—a mystery. Her next note explained, *I found a letter. I don’t know who it’s from. I think it’s important.*
She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket, smooth and thin, the handwriting neat and cramped, winding across the page in tiny, unfamiliar letters. He unfolded it carefully, his heart drumming.
*“Your answer is in the words you don’t know, waiting in the places you don’t go.”* The letters seemed to twist, as if mocking him, daring him to understand.
Monica’s gaze held steady, full of hope, and he couldn’t bear to disappoint her. He squinted at the paper, struggling, but the words kept slipping through his grasp like fog.
She leaned closer, scribbling a quick question on her notepad: *Can you figure it out?*
He took a deep breath. He didn’t know how to explain that words had always been his greatest fear. He couldn’t say how each letter twisted into another when he stared too long. But he also knew he couldn’t back down—not with her waiting, watching him like he could actually find the answer.
Finally, an idea surfaced, vague but certain. *"Maybe the words...we don’t understand...are just hiding."*
His voice was halting, but monica’s nodded, smiling, as if his guess made perfect sense.
He stared harder, willing the letters to reveal their secrets. And just then, something shifted… whether in his mind or in the words themselves, he couldn’t tell. One phrase leapt out, like a flash of magic he never thought he’d see: *“trust those who see the world a little differently.”*
It was enough. It was an answer, or at least something close to one. He read it aloud, his voice quiet but sure, and watched her face break into a radiant smile.
In that moment, Ramon didn’t mind the words slipping and twisting—because she, Monica, had heard him.
What do you think?
Can a single sentence change the way you see the world?
👇 Let me know your thoughts in the comments or share your own experiences with language.