Big Noises

A monologue centering around a seven-year old girl with synesthesia.

Mommy and Daddy are yelling again.

I can hear them through the wall. It’s loud. Louder than when Mommy shouted at me when I drew on the wall. Louder than when Daddy took me to the concert and all the people were screaming. I don’t like big noise. I like little noise. I like little birds chirping- tweet-tweet. Blue dots like the sky. I like little raindrops falling- plink-plink. Purple squiggles. Most of all, I like those little scratches my crayon makes when I rub it against the paper. I go scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch, making pretty yellow spirals go into the air. I miss the pretty yellow spirals. All I hear is loud loud loud loud.

I wish Mommy and Daddy could make the pretty yellow spirals. But Mommy and Daddy make big noises. I don’t like big noises, because they make big dots and big squiggles and big spirals. They scare me. And they hurt my eyes. I thought Mommy and Daddy knew that.

Was that my name? Why did Mommy just yell my name? Usually I like my name. It’s all shiny and pretty and goldie-gold, like a penny. But the big noises make it look all bad, like when a penny gets all old and gross.

All I hear are little bits. Usually Mommy’s voice sounds rosy pink, but now all her words are big and red. Like a tomato. Eww. And Daddy’s words were always green, like a lima bean, but now they’re green like the little tree that Daddy has in his car. The one that swings back and forth, back and forth, all the time.  Rosy pink and lima bean green. Tomato red and car-tree green.

I don’t like it. Big noises never have pretty colors. Big noises are all ugly colors, like tomato red and car-tree green. Big noises are loud, and bold, and they hurt my eyes and ears. That's why I like little noises. Big noises are too big. Big is scary, like monsters in my closet. Mommy says that there aren't any monsters in my closet. I guess there isn't, though. The only monsters I know are the big noises. And the people who make them.

Mommy and Daddy make way too many big noises. Maybe they're the monsters in the closet.

But then the big noises stop. No more colors. That's the worst, though. Because even ugly colors are better than no colors.

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Author's Note: I consider this to be rather open-ended, but if you're confused here's my take on it.

The protagonist is a young girl with synesthesia- a condition in which two or more senses are connected, causing them to be linked. In this case, the young girl has some of the most common forms of synesthesia- colored sounds, as well as letters (and possibly numbers). However, since synesthesia is not very well-known, her parents are unsure about how to treat their child and what help she needs, leading to their argument.

Author's Note

Please don't talk about my constant fragments- it's on purpose, due to the protagonist's age. Otherwise, feel free to totally tear this up! I LOVE feedback, and I don't really care about negativity as long as it's constructive.