The Day of Differences
How a city learned to see beyond its own reflections
Today is the International Day of Human Solidarity - one when a jigsaw becomes completely fitted.
When walls part, and partitions close.
When differences meet, magic happens.
🌟
The city of Parting was - parted. There were many parts, true to its name.
Every district spoke a different language. And within each language, a separate dialect.
Rules veered like cars as they steered from street to street. Neighbours saw each other - only with their eyes. Glances fleeted, lasting shorter than seconds.
🐾
Kevin frowned at George's odd dances. Harry squirmed at Sheila's crooked smile - one fixed on her face due to facial paralysis from an accident.
They laughed at Juno - he wrote, but climbing Everest was easier than reading.
But the little child smiled like an angel.
Then, the Mayor threw them a ball into a curve that was already curvy.
The Day of Differences. A town holiday.
To mark the day and make it as COMFORTABLE for the edgy as he could, he PAIRED the townsfolk.
Two worlds collided in a day.
Leila, the quiet librarian, frowned at George's heady dance moves. Tom, the straightlaced mathematician, baulked at Ben's cheeky eyebrow raising.
The differences sounded louder than cymbals.
Hearts listened, though minds ignored.
✨
The diversity blanketed Parting - now Imparting - and beyond.
Leila held Dance Appreciation Days at the town library - with George's help. Ben spun records at the radio station with the help of a metronome that Tom assembled - after a mouthful of quirky complaints.
And containers were no longer separate - the pairings melted hard plastic partitions.
Into nothingness.
🌟
Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.
For Mikeydred's December challenge
About the Creator
Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin
Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.
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Comments (5)
🎉I love how the paradox of the city’s name points so directly to its broken state. What really stood out to me is the layers of languages and dialects; it divulges how we can be right next to each other yet still be worlds apart. The idea that we only see each other with our eyes and that a glance is so fleeting makes me want to whisper in your ear just how true that is. I feel so connected to you through this piece, and I can see where we think alike. I noticed your simile, "the differences sounded louder than cymbals." It gives me the feeling that instead of loving each other’s uniqueness, we find them vexatious or jarring. It’s like the sound of a cymbal that shouldn't be a noise, yet we treat it that way.
Congratulations on the Top Story, Michelle. Love this one. The imagery and symbolism is spot on.
Oooo, this was nice. Congratulations on your Top Story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Wow, Michelle, an interesting piece. I've read it several times.
A beautiful allegorical fairytale that evokes cooperation — something that is missing in today’s world. And why? Because humans do not listen to difference or try to bridge it. Effort is the key. No one is the same as another; that is how rhythm and melody exist. From fusion comes harmony.