As her shout rang out, it took form.
Her angry voice rose in the air, then drifted down like silk.
Flipping and folding as it sailed.
And she cringed at seeing it fall because she didn’t know where it would land.
She had been warned about her voice.
Warned that once freed, she had no power over the lengths that it could travel – for better or worse.
Warned that words flew easy, but fell hard.
And now the rage that she had unleashed was tumbling down and growing in strength.
Wanting to take it back, she began running after it.
Chasing the sound of her own voice.
Trying to catch it before anyone got in its way.
Before anyone got hurt.