What's in a Name?

Appellations hold no value.


They’re merely plastic badges:


They indicate something but are just tacked on.



They gave her a name. On the first day, she forgot about it.

A week later they called upon her but she didn’t reply. She didn’t know she was being referred to, but then again, who would without a name?

They wrote it down for her. And when she forgot again, they branded it across her arm, where it reminded her daily - in red, unfading flesh - that her name was Li.

Or was it? There was something else. Something other than Li. Something from the plunging darkness. Something she used to know. Something that started with H.

H. Heather? Holly? Hillary?

And yet they called her Li. Liars. Liars in brown suits, and the red ties. Liars in their smooth, long necks. Their shapeless limbs. Their cold, white pupils on grey eyes.

Liars who called themselves protectors.


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Don't bother trying to make sense of this. It's just that the word Appellation was Dictionary.com's word of the day, and I wanted to write something that meant nothing.

Tell me if there's a story there somewhere.