The document describes a childhood memory of the narrator, Emma, witnessing her friend Jamie get injured on the playground. When Emma tries to get help from their counselor Rachel, Rachel yells at Emma and tells her she shouldn't talk at all, frightening the young girl. As a result, Emma develops a fear of speaking to adults and finds an outlet through writing, which helps calm her mind and lessen the pain in her chest from unspoken words.

1. You Shouldn’t Speak
Emily Waldo
The bright sun shines down upon a group of children who play in a playground outside of
a small building with bright whites letters spelling out “Honeygrove Day Care”. Multiple voices
are yelling over each other as they push and pull, climb and jump, and swing all around. One of
the younger ones danced and twirled in her pink skirt. Her dark brown hair held up in a high
ponytail, while her bangs slightly cover her warm chocolate eyes.
“Your Highness!” A little voice called out to the twirling girl. “Princess Emma!” Young
Emma turned to face the voice and smiled at the small blonde climbing up the tall playground
stairs.
“Yes, Princess Jamie?” Emma sighed playfully as she ran forward to help her friend up.
“What is wrong?”
Bright hazel eyes shine as Jamie smiled up at the slightly older girl. “The boys are
coming! They wish to take our castle!”
Emma stood up taller, her chest puffed up as she feigned confidence. “Well that can’t
happen, now can it?” The brunette brought a single tanned hand up to cover her eyes as she
squinted slightly to spot the intruders. “There they are!”
Emma ran forward to slide down the slide to “protect” her castle from the villainess boys.
Her heart beating loudly as she lightly pushed one of the boys. “Charge!”
Laughter was echoing throughout the playground as the game of pretend was made even
more fun. However, the laughter was replaced by a scream as Emma turned and saw one of the
boys push young Jamie over the side of the slide. “Jamie!”

2. The girl began to burst into tears as the throbbing of her broken arm was made even more
pronounced. “Emma!”
The young group of children surrounded Jamie trying to comfort her and to make things
better, but, despite the echoing screams of the young girl, none of the adults had come forward to
help.
“I’m going to get someone!” Emma shouted as she ran to where she had last saw her
counselor. As the young girl squinted past the light to try and find the missing counselor, her
heart began to pound in her chest. She was afraid.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emma spotted the counselor talking to an older boy whom
she never saw before. “Miss Rachel! Miss Rachel!” The counselor turned to face the girl,
annoyance flashing in her eyes. Rachel asked with a strained smile. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Go
back to playing.”
“But Miss-” Emma began but was cut off by the woman once more.
“I’m busy!” Rachel exclaimed turning back to the boy. Emma grabbed the counselor’s
arm trying to pull her to her hurt friend. “Johnny-”
Emma was cut off again but this time but a shove and the young girl hit the wood chips
rubbing her arm.
“You need to learn when to shut up.” The counselor snapped, “Maybe you shouldn’t talk
at all.”
Emma stared up at the counselor, eyes filled with tears and her little mouth dropped open.
Her heart stopped as she saw the counselor’s hands go to grab her but stop as they are interrupted
by a shriek from one of the older counselors. “RACHEL!”

3. I was six years old when that moment happened. It was a moment that changed my life.
From then on I was too afraid to talk to a lot of people, and my fear of being ridiculed rose and
rose. Finally, I moved to New Hampshire and I found my talent, writing. My fear of speaking to
or trusting adults had me spitting out lies and silences rather than my old talkative self. So I
found a new way to speak, through my journals and my stories.
I had always been a big reader so when I started writing for fun, my english teacher was
shocked. My words just flowed into paper and everything I had ever wanted to say came out.
Words flowed onto paper like a small stream flows into a larger body of water. The pain in my
chest from my unspoken words began to lesson and lesson.
My mind that was once constantly overflowing with words unspoken began to settle and
calm. With soft music in my ears, a pencil in my hand, and my soft bed made me feel as if
anything was possible. While writing has fixed me in ways, I can’t see myself becoming a writer.
Maybe on the side of my dream job but writing will always be the thing that made me sane.