{"id":354,"date":"2018-01-13T13:21:03","date_gmt":"2018-01-13T18:21:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/?page_id=354"},"modified":"2018-01-13T13:30:48","modified_gmt":"2018-01-13T18:30:48","slug":"atittlealittle","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/atittlealittle\/","title":{"rendered":"A tittle and His i"},"content":{"rendered":"

I love this story.\u00a0 I love this idea of the written language having life, and I love how it’s done here.\u00a0 (And if I have to spell out why I’m biased, you’ll miss the point.)<\/em>
\nSeriously, the writing and soul of the characters is superb — you can tell, easily, where the author spilled their heart into this.<\/em><\/p>\n

Jaidree Braddix’s writing has appeared in\u00a0New York Arts Magazine\u00a0and she is a frequent book reviewer for\u00a0Publishing Research Quarterly.\u00a0She holds a Master’s in Publishing from Pace University, and though she is now a nonfiction literary agent at Sterling Lord Literistic, she has always enjoyed writing fiction in her (now very limited) spare time. Connect with her on Instagram: @jaidreeb.
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

A Tittle and His i<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

A short story by Jaidree Braddix<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Tittle did not have a lot of friends, he was only a dot after all. Even the i over which he hovered did not pay him much attention.<\/p>\n

Sweet little i, she was madly in love with Capital H, of the name Harry, and Tittle did not approve of this at all. Like all well-to-do alphanumerical marks, Tittle knew his i could never be with the Capital.<\/p>\n

Capitals did not mingle with lowercases. It simply wasn\u2019t proper, and in the strict case system of letters, propriety was everything. Furthermore, Capital H was a name letter and Tittle\u2019s i was a simpleton, a lowly preposition letter making up half of the word \u201cin.\u201d True, she was a lead letter, which gave her some standing over the middle i\u2019s of \u201ceither\u201d and \u201cneither,\u201d but she was no name letter. She wasn\u2019t even a verb and she was certainly no pronoun. Capital H was always at the start or subject of sentences, and little i could only hope to join clauses. In rare situations, lowercases could have raised esteem in the eyes of uppercases by being made a name letter, but this did not happen often. However much Tittle\u2019s i longed to be the name letter i of Ginny, nothing could change the fact that she was born a preposition letter.<\/p>\n

Tittle did his best to distract his i from her unseemly desires.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo then I told h, you know the closer of \u2018with\u2019? Yeah, that guy \u2013 I asked him if he\u2019d like to get together sometime and you know what he said, i?… i?\u201d Tittle looked down at his linear partner and felt the millimeter of cream-colored paper between them like an ocean. \u201ci, are you listening to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHmm?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWere you thinking about Capital H again? Son of a semicolon, he\u2019s halfway down the page!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut if I lean just right, I can almost see him\u2026\u201d i demonstrated her lean, nearly knocking Tittle off his perch.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop it! You\u2019re being ridiculous.\u201d Tittle regained his balance and heaved a sigh. \u201cI just wish you wouldn\u2019t, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know I\u2019m ridiculous.\u201d The line of i\u2019s body slumped until she resembled a c. \u201cBut a letter can dream can\u2019t she?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot in this situation she can\u2019t. For Capital G of God\u2019s sake, i, we\u2019ve been over this. He\u2019s the title character \u2013 he\u2019s on the cover!\u201d Tittle was fussing furiously. He hated having this repetitive conversation.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m on the back cover\u2026\u201d i said desperately.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn a quote from the New York Times? That\u2019s completely different and you know it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is! Oh come on, i, why don\u2019t you try to straighten up a bit? You\u2019re slouching so bad you\u2019re starting to look like angsty n over here-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d The other half of their word glowered up at Tittle. \u201cI resent that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry n, pleasure working with you as always.\u201d Tittle said hurriedly. \u201cLook i, we\u2019re in a popular book, we are. We wouldn\u2019t want anyone to think this popular book\u2019s got a misprint like a curved i in it, would we?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPssh, popular?\u201d sneered n, \u201cwe\u2019re a damn phenomenon.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle wished he hadn\u2019t said it, but angsty n could not be more correct. Tittle, his I, Capital H, and that lucky little whore of a name letter, i of Ginny, resided in the most widely read book of the decade. Tittle loved it. Indeed for a letter there is no greater pleasure than that of being read. But Tittle\u2019s i took little joy in their fame. For her, the success of the book only widened the distance between her and her love, Capital H of Harry. As the book\u2019s title grew to be a household name, so too grew the prestige of Capital H, and so diminished the chances of him ever loving a lowercase preposition i.<\/p>\n

After a few moments of i\u2019s sulky silence, Tittle gave up trying to encourage her and grew bored. He began bouncing in his place and humming a little tune.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo about that conversation I was having with h, you won\u2019t believe-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cG\u2019s, Tittle!\u201d i snapped. \u201cI\u2019ve told you a thousand times before, I don\u2019t like h of with and I do not <\/em>want to be a part of the word \u2018within.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just thought\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot all H\u2019s are the same!\u201d i\u2019s voice was shaking. \u201cAnd just because I adore Capital H, you think I\u2019ll fall for any old lowercase h you throw at me! What? Because it\u2019s more proper?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201ci,\u201d Tittle said meekly, \u201cit\u2019s more realistic, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat may be.\u201d i bristled. \u201cBut I still don\u2019t care for the lowercase of with. Just take a walk or something would you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA walk? You know I don\u2019t like to leave you alone. What if someone were to pick us up and not buy us because of a misprinted i without a Tittle?\u201d Tittle shuddered at the thought. \u201cI\u2019ll calm down I promise. I\u2019m just so wound up, we\u2019ve been so long without a reader\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell that\u2019s the book store life.\u201d i said impatiently. \u201cJust take a walk, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay\u2026 I won\u2019t go far though,\u201d Tittle tutted nervously. \u201cI\u2019ll stay on this page I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTittle just-!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going, I\u2019m going. But if I were you I wouldn\u2019t be so quick to get rid of me. You look downright funny without me, like a midgety 1.\u201d<\/p>\n

i glared at him as he hopped down from his perch and bounced away past the rest of the words in the sentence. He could hear angsty n chuckling. Tittle stopped over a lowercase u and nearly marched right back; he had always suspected n liked being alone with i, forming a less than complete \u201cin\u201d without Tittle. Tittle approved of that coupling about as much as he approved of i and Capital H.<\/p>\n

Deciding that the last thing he needed was two confrontations with his i in one day, Tittle rolled away as fast as he could. By the time he felt the paper beneath him beginning to slope, it was already too late.<\/p>\n

Tittle was approaching the spine and rolling all too fast. He pumped his tiny brakes hard, but could not keep from rebounding painfully off the spine and rolling blindly back across the page. Slowly and dizzily, he could feel himself wheeling to a stop. He came to rest with a light thump against something behind him.<\/p>\n

\u201cEx-ceeeewse me?\u201d demanded a regal feminine voice. Tittle jumped up quickly, still feeling light headed, and found himself face to face with a haughty Capital Y.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my! I\u2019m so very sorry, Capital, I hit the spine you see, and-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you the missing period?\u201d She demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe missing period!\u201d Capital Y was in quite a state. \u201cThere was a period here, and now it is no more! I look quite foolish starting a sentence when the prior hasn\u2019t had the decency to finish properly. We must find the missing period! Are you he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh no, Madam,\u201d Tittle said, affronted at being mistook for a punctuation mark. \u201cI am no period. I\u2019m a tittle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA tittle?\u201d Capital Y\u2019s voice held a mixture of disdain and disbelief. \u201cWhat in Capital G of God\u2019s name is a Tittle?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe dot above a lowercase i, Madam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh really?\u201d Capital Y asked in a bored tone. \u201cThose have a name? I had assumed they were a part of the lower i, like a distasteful hat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle bristled. He considered himself to be far from distasteful.<\/p>\n

\u201cMany a tittle are content to live the complacent hat-like life to which we are pre-destined, keeping our thoughts to ourselves. But we tittles have our virtues. We are known to be excellent judges of character,\u201d Tittle said proudly, throwing out his tiny round chest. \u201cWe\u2019re sticklers for the high standards of alphanumerical society.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you certainly do carry on quite a bit more than any period I have ever met,\u201d Capital Y said. \u201cSo you have not seen the period?\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle bristled again at the Capital\u2019s disinterest.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou say the period was just there, before your sentence?\u201d He asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cMust I repeat everything I say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Madam,\u201d Tittle replied acidly. \u201cBut it does occur to me that periods are not usually prone to adventure, unless, of course, there is a pregnant letter in the vicinity. I hear they have an odd sense for it, given their incredible phobia of child birth.\u201d<\/p>\n

As he spoke, Tittle watched Capital Y draw herself up haughtily and intensify her proud glare. Then he noticed an elegant, French Lowercase f flitting away toward the spine. As Capital Y\u2019s glance fell on the f, Tittle understood all too well what had happened.<\/p>\n

Tittle huffed his disapproval and turned back to Capital Y. This time he dropped his voice when he spoke to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I were you, I would do my darndest to find that period immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n

Capital Y was speechless. Inter-casial affairs were of the deepest shame in the delicate vernacular social structure of a book\u2019s grammatical characters. The offspring of such liaisons were said to be prone to misprinting, typos, and other gross disfigurement.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019ll excuse me, I have an i to get back to.\u201d Tittle executed a precise little bow. \u201cIt was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Capital.\u201d<\/p>\n

Capital Y nodded absently as Tittle took his leave of her, shaking his head as he went. He was still several sentences away from his i when a distinctly brutish lowercase b jumped out in front of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHALT!\u201d The b ordered. \u201cAin\u2019t you a little far from your paragraph, Period?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor Capital G of God\u2019s sake, I\u2019m not a period!\u201d Tittle huffed. \u201cI am a tittle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA wha-?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe dot above a Lowercase i,\u201d Tittle said impatiently. \u201cNow, may I go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHmm\u2026 I suppose so. But if I finds out you\u2019re lyin\u2019 to me\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear I\u2019m telling the truth,\u201d Tittle brushed briskly past the b. \u201cSo if you\u2019ll excuse me, I really must find my i.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle had barely begun to roll on when the b jumped back up in from of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWAIT!\u201d Bellowed the b. Tittle rolled backwards a few centimeters in shock.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you smell that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSmell what?\u201d But before Tittle had finished his sentence, he did smell it. His little heart nearly stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cSmoke! Fire! RUN! Raise the alarm!\u201d The b hopped off as panic ensued. \u201cAll letters to your emergency stations!\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle zoomed past the b.<\/p>\n

\u201cOut of my way! I must get to my i!\u201d<\/p>\n

In a community that is entirely built and dependent upon paper, fire is the worst possible disaster, even worse than flooding. Every little letter learns, from the time he or she is just a tiny ink blot, that the only way to survive a fire is in the spine of the book. The spine, as Nanny Ns explain, is the densest part of the book, and the last thing to burn. If a letter to can get to the spine, that letter might be able to hide long enough to hope that a reader will extinguish the flames before the entire book is consumed.<\/p>\n

Now, as every other letter rushed toward the spine, Tittle fought the crowd. He refused to run to the spine without his i.<\/p>\n

Tittle tried to push through the crowd of jumbled letters, but it was no use. Everywhere he went, his pleas of \u201cexcuse me\u201d and \u201cpardon me\u201d went unheard over the hollering H\u2019s, trilling T\u2019s, and wailing W\u2019s. He got stomped on several times in the crowd full of flailing F\u2019s and mauling M\u2019s. Everywhere he turned it was complete chaos. How would he ever find his sweet little i in this mess?<\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone, try to stay calm! Our book is not aflame! There is a good chance the fire will be controlled before it even reaches our shelf!\u201d Capital H of Harry stood in a prominent place on the page, shouting out the only sensible words to be heard. \u201cIf we all proceed calmly, there is a chance we can all fit closer to the spine. Please, don\u2019t push one another \u2013 and Capital P! No pillaging!\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time in his life, Tittle could almost understand his i\u2019s obsession with Capital H. Standing at the crest of the curved page, Capital H was an inspiring example of everything a Capital should be. His bravery and leadership in the face of danger, his confident command, he was exactly what the vernacular populace needed from the first title and name letter, Capital H of Harry. If only anyone would stop and listen to him.<\/p>\n

Then it occurred to Tittle that one letter would have stopped to hang on H\u2019s every word, even if the very page was burning underneath them. His i would never miss the chance to stare in adoration at Capital H, not even in the face of fiery death.<\/p>\n

Tittle dove through the crowd and pushed his way against the throng of frightened font. Unable to see more than a centimeter ahead through the letters, he followed the sound of Capital H\u2019s shouts.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease try to stay calm!\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle dove between the legs of a pair of m\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cCapital C of Christ, A, stop attacking! You\u2019ll get there soon enough!\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle was nearly there now. He pushed an s out of his way.<\/p>\n

\u201cB, don\u2019t be such a bully, everyone can fit if we just stay-\u201d Capital H broke off as Tittle pushed his way out of the mass and fell directly in from of him. H gave Tittle a perplexed look. \u201c\u2026.calm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTittle!\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle whirled around.<\/p>\n

\u201ci?\u201d He looked up to see his I hopping towards him, looking like a strange dwarfed l as she always did without her tittle. Tittle was overjoyed, \u201ci! I\u2019ve found you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere have you been?\u201d i exclaimed as Tittle leapt to his proper place atop her head. \u201cI thought you\u2019d been trampled for sure!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was very nearly trampled several times,\u201d Tittle agreed.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my!\u201d i had turned while Tittle was talking, and found herself face to face with Capital H of Harry.<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle i, are you not in a hurry to get to the spine?\u201d Capital H asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI, uh \u2013 I, well, you see, I had to, um, find my \u2013 my tittle. I had to-to get him, uh, to get him before-\u201d i stuttered, her voice meek.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdmirable,\u201d said Capital H. \u201cAt least someone has their priorities straight on this mess of a page.\u201d<\/p>\n

At this, i could only giggle nervously. Tittle worried for a moment that she might faint.<\/p>\n

\u201cUnfortunately, I\u2019m afraid the time has come to embrace self-preservation over more admirable qualities.\u201d Capital H sighed. \u201cOne cannot die for those who would only kill themselves a moment later.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle nodded and surveyed their surroundings. The panic and mayhem continued in a inky black mass, pushing towards the center of the spine, but the space further out on the page was deserted. Without the letters and punctuation arranged in neatly spaced sentences across it, the cream-colored paper seemed enormous. Apart from Tittle, his i, and Capital H, there were only four other marks in the deserted space; the three lowercases that made up the word \u201cwhy\u201d and a question mark. The looked decidedly pessimistic.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou there!\u201d Capital H called to the dour monosyllabic sentence. \u201cJoin us, we shall flee to safety and with luck, avoid the frenzied crowds.\u201d<\/p>\n

The question mark was the first to respond. He jumped and bounced happily to Capital H\u2019s side. Tittle rolled his eyes; question marks were willing to try anything.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know\u2026\u201d the lowercase h said hesitantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat have we got to lose?\u201d y asked with a shrug and followed the question mark.<\/p>\n

h hesitated, looking at the mass of letters at the spine.<\/p>\n

\u201cy\u2019s got a point you know,\u201d w said wistfully, \u201cwhat have <\/em>we got to lose?\u201d<\/p>\n

Still h hesitated.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is your last chance, Lowercase!\u201d Capital H called, but the little h shook its head.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the center of the spine,\u201d h said, moving cautiously toward the panicked crowd. \u201cI should best take my chances here.\u201d\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cWe must leave you then, h, but we wish you luck. And may Capital G of God preserve us all!\u201d<\/p>\n

With that, Capital H turned to lead the way around the outskirts of the mayhem nearest to the center of the spine. He was taking them to the bottom of the page.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll this psychotic competition for the prized spot at the center of the spine is uncalled for.\u201d Capital H told the others. \u201cYou see, I have a theory that the base of the spine is just as safe, if not safer, than the center in the event of a fire. It is my belief that this spot will be open for us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re so clever, Capital.\u201d i fawned.<\/p>\n

Just then a bright light flashed in the high distance of the book. The air was instantly filled with smoke and there was a fresh wave of screams from the typeface. Thin black wisps of ash began to fall past the letters on the page. Their book had caught a spark and was now burning.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuickly!\u201d Capital H shouted over the renewed commotion. \u201cWe must get to the base of the spine!\u201d<\/p>\n

Capital H moved in long, graceful strides through the rain of ash. w followed behind him in a sort of gallop, Question Mark was close after w, using his dot as a wheel to roll as fast as he could, and y and Tittle\u2019s i brought up the rear. Tittle clung desperately to his i, knowing that he could move much faster without her ungainly hopping, but unable to bear the thought of parting with her.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just over this ridge!\u201d Capital H coughed.<\/p>\n

The page was rapidly filling with thick, dark smoke. The paper beneath them curled and buckled as flames consumed its distant edges. The letters stumbled and slid as the continued to run for their lives. Tittle could not see beyond a quarter inch before him in the ashy air, but he could hear the screams of those who had not made it to the spine in time. He clutched still tighter to his i.<\/p>\n

Tittle and his i made it over the crest of the paper hill and slid down the steep decline to crash into the crease of the spine. Tittle bounced awkwardly off an exposed stitch in the binding. The fall dislodged him from his place atop his i and sent him reeling in precisely the wrong direction.<\/p>\n

Tittle\u2019s vision was blurred, his tiny lungs were singed. He continued to roll and bounce along the crease of the book\u2019s spine, unable to steady himself. The air was getting hotter and the smoke thicker. Tittle tried desperately to pump his tiny brakes, but each consecutive stitch sent him flying.<\/p>\n

Suddenly he stopped, seemingly in midair, though Tittle was so dizzy it was impossible to tell where he was. His double vision collided and united, and finally cleared enough to reveal that he had not, in fact, stopped in midair; he had been caught.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou would do well to hold on tighter to your i, my little friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

That dastardly Capital H was simply impossible to hate.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t let go on purpose<\/em>,\u201d Tittle said defensively as H carried him along the spine. \u201cI was tossed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo I saw.\u201d Capital H was running along in his effortless way. Tittle felt oddly flustered and awkward to be sitting atop a letter other than his i. Even under the circumstances it was terribly improper.<\/p>\n

i rushed forward as they reached the clearer, cooler air of the base of the spine.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Capital H, thank you for rescuing him! I was so afraid!\u201d i gushed. When i reached them, Tittle leapt from H to his rightful place as fast as he could, irritated at needing to be rescued.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe fire is spreading fast.\u201d Capital H said. \u201cAt this rate, we\u2019ll be lucky if even the spine survives. We must hope the readers extinguish the pages, and fast, or we\u2019ll be \u2013 well \u2013 toast, quite literally.\u201d This statement was greeted by frightened stares, with a silence interrupted only by the cries of burning grammar in the distance. Capital H cleared his throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cOur best chance of survival,\u201d he said, \u201cis to hide deep within the binding of the spine, we must get under the stitching itself.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Capital, no letter has ever entered a book\u2019s binding before,\u201d Question Mark interjected. \u201cIt\u2019s forbidden, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have a better idea?\u201d<\/p>\n

Without waiting for an answer, Capital H bent and lifted the nearest stitch, which was nearly as thick as he was tall, and shimmied under it. The others stared after him in terrified silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, I\u2019ve heard the stories about the things that live in the binding too,\u201d i said, \u201cbut at this point, Capital H is right, we don\u2019t have a choice.\u201d<\/p>\n

A resounding crack echoed above them. The sound ripped across the page with a heart-stopping tremor. It was followed by a dull, ominous scraping; a creaking, dragging sound that grew closer by the second.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood G of God! The top of the page has broken off!\u201d w screamed.<\/p>\n

Tittle hugged his i with all his strength as she dove under the nearest stitch. The crash that followed was deafening. No letter on the surface of the page could have survived it.<\/p>\n

Space in the binding was nonexistent. The weight of the stitches pressed in from above and the pages squeezed in from all sides. Aside from physical pressure, the complete darkness was oppressive. Tittle could not tell if he was actually still holding his i, or if they were just pressed together. He was also fairly sure y\u2019s foot was digging into his face, but it was impossible to tell.<\/p>\n

\u201cwot wuz at oize?\u201d The source of the muffled voice was less than a comma\u2019s breadth away. From its baritone sounds, Tittle guessed it belonged to Capital H, who had no seen the top of the page begin to fall.<\/p>\n

i tried to explain the catastrophe, but the pressure in the binding muffled her words to the point of gibberish. She soon gave up the story.<\/p>\n

\u201coos ih eere?\u201d asked Capital H. In response, a brief role call revealed that aside from Capital H, Tittle and his i, Question Mark, y, and w had all made it into the binding before the page fell. Question Mark had lost his dot, however, and was extremely distraught over it.<\/p>\n

Question Mark insisted that he must go back out to the page and search for his dot. At least that\u2019s what Tittle thought his was insisting, the muffling effect of the binding made the punctuation mark\u2019s raving incomprehensible. w and Capital H objected to the search through their own muffled cries. Through determined repetition, they were eventually able to communicate that if Question Mark went out there, he might be struck by more falling paper or burned alive. It was too risky. Question Mark sobbed into the compressed pages.<\/p>\n

Beyond the binding, all that could be heard was the distant crackling of flames and the occasional crash of falling paper. The cries of their fellow letters had long since ceased, and the thought of that made Tittle cringe. In the silence that followed, it became clear that the letters hiding within the binding must accept that every grammatical mark they had ever known, all their friends and family, were likely now consumed by fire or worse. All they could do was hide in the binding until it was safe to come back out, if such a time ever came.<\/p>\n

The acrid smells of burning paper and scorched ink began to fill the vacuum-like environment of the binding. It was sickening and growing stronger by the minute. The heat was becoming unbearable.<\/p>\n

Then a new set of sounds joined the crackling of the fire. First there came a roar, then a splash, and finally a hiss.<\/p>\n

\u201cwaher!\u201d w wailed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re sa\u2019ed!\u201d y yelled from somewhere above Tittle.<\/p>\n

Steam burned through the binding in a sudden rush. Tittle tried to hold on tighter to his i, but being that he was already crushed against her, this was impossible.<\/p>\n

The spine of a book, its binding, is not only the last part of a book to burn in a fire, but also the last part to be soaked through in a flood. As water filled the pages and the cover, it made them heavier, pulling on the spine and creating even more pressure in the binding, which had so far remained dry.<\/p>\n

w screamed.<\/p>\n

\u201cdub-yoo!\u201d y yelled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI bleein!\u201d w wailed back. Her panic was as clear as her words were not. \u201cAiv been \u2018it! I runnih, I bleein!\u201d<\/p>\n

In an instant, Tittle understood. From the sound of her voice, Tittle guessed that w was closest to the stitching and therefore closest to the open page. Water would be entering the stitching by now. w had been hit by a drop, and now her ink was running; she was bleeding.<\/p>\n

\u201cHol\u2019 ah dub-yoo!\u201d Tittle shouted over the roaring sounds of the water beyond. \u201cDo\u2019 moo or yool blur!\u201d Tittle knew as well as the rest that a blurred letter was a dead letter. In the pitch dark there was no way to know how badly w\u2019s ink was running, or even her exact location within the binding. Her only chance of survival was complete stillness and some merciful dry air.<\/p>\n

Tittle held his breath as he heard a drop of water slide by him, hardly a millimeter away. He could feel the drops watery trail expanding in its wake, seeping closer and closer to Tittle and his i. Tittle gave a hard kick and the two of them managed to squirm away from the dangerous drop unharmed.<\/p>\n

Soon the sound of the rushing water grew distant and they could hear the shouting voices of readers. This mingled with the terrifying slide and plop of water slowly dripping into the binding.<\/p>\n

\u201cCapahul Gee ah Gah, preezer us!\u201d i cried.<\/p>\n

All around them was the silence of renewed calm; no screaming letters, no crackling fire, no roar of water.<\/p>\n

\u201cLeh\u2019s go.\u201d Capital H spoke from somewhere to Tittle\u2019s right. The Capital shuffled toward the open air. i was quick to follow.<\/p>\n

Tittle attempted to protest, to save his i just one more time, but she would not hear it. She was determined to follow Capital H. All Tittle could do was grasp onto her as she wriggled and squirmed up to the stitching and onward into unknown horrors.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When they first pushed through the binding, Tittle was blind. Any small amount of light would have been overwhelming after the total darkness of the binding, but the bright daylight now flooding his tiny retinas was too much to take. The sudden relief from the intense pressure of the binding made Tittle feel as though he was floating. He was floating in a land of white light, absolutely sure he was dead. And then someone coughed.<\/p>\n

Tittle did not presume to know much about the afterlife, but he was sure no one would be coughing there. He blinked and forced his eyes to adjust, a decision he immediately regretted.<\/p>\n

The scene before him was horrific. Most all of what had once been Tittle\u2019s home, a sensationally popular young adult novel, was now reduced to ashes or less. The singed and soaked corner where he and the others now stood was all that remained of the entire book. Not more than a couple inches from where they had emerged from the binding, the page blackened and dropped off in a ragged cliff. Ominous dark smudges of ink streaked the page and leaked from the binding.<\/p>\n

\u201cCapital G of God\u2026\u201d Capital H whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh no\u2026\u201d w cried. She was not looking at their surroundings. She was staring at one of her feet. \u201cIt\u2019s blurred!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can hardly tell.\u201d y said absently, his gaze fixed on the wreckage around them.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not even looking!\u201d w wailed. \u201cIt\u2019s blurred, I\u2019ll never use it again!\u201d<\/p>\n

It seemed w was going to carry on for ages, when suddenly Tittle heard something incredible from far off on the page.<\/p>\n

\u201cShhh! Did you hear that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHear what, Tittle? We\u2019re the only ones left.\u201d i squeaked.<\/p>\n

Again, Tittle heard a faint cough.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, we\u2019re not.\u201d He jumped from his i.<\/p>\n

\u201cTittle, wait!\u201d<\/p>\n

He ignored his i and zoomed off toward the source of the sound, without giving the others a chance to follow. The coughing was coming from the area where the top of the book had been burned away, near the spine.<\/p>\n

As he got closer, Tittle could still see no one there. He treaded carefully on the soggy paper, avoiding puddles and praying he would not bleed. He stopped only when he reached the place where page turned from off-white to burnt brown and he could no longer trust his footing.<\/p>\n

He heard the cough again. It was weak, but Tittle could tell it was coming from somewhere close. He strained to look around him, across the page, and even onto the burnt edges. He could see nothing. No letter could have survived beyond the binding, he knew that. Perhaps, Tittle thought sadly, he was suffering from trauma-induced hallucinations.<\/p>\n

Sighing, Tittle took a step backward and nearly toppled into a large puddle. He stumbled and caught his balance, just in time to see a sickly comma collapse on the puddle\u2019s far edge.<\/p>\n

Tittle ran to the comma and took her by her tiny shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you alright?\u201d Tittle shook her. \u201cComma!\u201d<\/p>\n

The comma coughed again, but made no other reply.<\/p>\n

\u201cHelp!\u201d Tittle looked about him. The other letters would still be near the spine where they emerged, several inches away. It was too far, they would never hear him.<\/p>\n

With a sharp inhale, Tittle heaved the damp and unconscious comma over himself and trudged back towards the spine. He cursed himself for not waiting for his i to follow him. She could have lifted this comma easily. Tittle was too small, the effort would surely exhaust him before he made it another half inch.<\/p>\n

Tittle paused to catch his breath; had he really only gone three millimeters? It felt to him like a full three inches. He tried to still his sawing lungs long enough to listen to the comma\u2019s. Her breath was faint, but she was still breathing. Tittle heaved her higher onto his shoulders and set off again with renewed determination.<\/p>\n

As he made it to the crest of a hill in the water-buckled paper, he could see the others spread out, evidently searching for him, below.<\/p>\n

He called to them and his tiny knees buckled.<\/p>\n

\u201cTittle!\u201d His i exclaimed. She rushed up the hill toward him, followed closely by Capital H.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy small friend, where ever have you \u2013 Good G of god!\u201d Capital H reached Tittle first and immediately bent and lifted the comma off him with one hand.<\/p>\n

Tittle sighed with relief and collapsed against his i, who lifted him into his proper place and carried him back to the relatively safe corned where they had emerged from the binding. Capital H followed, cradling the unconscious comma.<\/p>\n

As soon as they made it back, Capital H set the comma down on the driest patch of paper he could find, and the others gathered around as he tended to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere did you find this comma, Tittle?\u201d Capital H asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was near the edge.\u201d Tittle said. \u201cI have no idea how she survived.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPure luck, I guess.\u201d Capital H shook his head. \u201cBut it would seem she\u2019s out of that now; I believe she\u2019s in a coma.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no! The comma is in a coma?\u201d w gasped.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would appear so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut isn\u2019t there some way we can revive her?\u201d Question Mark asked.<\/p>\n

y stomped angrily.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor the love of G, is anyone here a doctor?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cy\u2026\u201d Tittle\u2019s i said tentatively, \u201cwe\u2019re the only ones left. Look around, there\u2019s not a D among us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not a D we need.\u201d Capital H said. \u201cIt\u2019s an entire CPR team, and even they would be hard pressed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA CPR team?\u201d i asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. It would take nothing short of an experienced C of Cardiac, P of Physician, and R of Resuscitation, all capitals of course, to revive a comma so deep in coma. But alas, we are the only survivors in all the pages.\u201d<\/p>\n

This was greeted with a heavy silence. w sat down and weeped. Question Mark, y, Capital H, Tittle, and his i stood in a melancholy circle around the comatose comma. They were a lone spot of grammar on a singed and soggy pile of pages and cover. Tittle slumped low against his i and felt her quivering.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you hear that?\u201d Question Mark whispered suddenly.<\/p>\n

Somewhere beyond their bookshelf, voices could be heard. Not the tinny tones of fellow letters, but rumbling, slow baritones.<\/p>\n

\u201cReaders!\u201d i cried.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Capital H looked around desperately. \u201cThey can\u2019t see us in such a state, shambled letters on a burnt corner of book; we\u2019ll be tossed for sure!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cT-tossed?\u201d w\u2019s voice was shaking.<\/p>\n

\u201cThrown out\u2026\u201d Tittle whispered. \u201cThe rubbish bin\u2026 unread.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

The letters gasped and embraced one another, terrified of their fate. Being tossed is a letter\u2019s worst nightmare: to be stuck in a decaying book never again to know the nourishing warmth of a reader\u2019s eyes ever again, slowly starving to death.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere must be something we can do.\u201d y said desperately.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, we can\u2019t\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we can!\u201d Capital H said suddenly. \u201cThere is something indeed. We may not be able to save ourselves from the land fill, but at least we can be read one more time before we go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand-\u201d i started to say.<\/p>\n

\u201ci, if we arrange ourselves in some form of a sentence, we can be read before we die.\u201d Capital H began to pace. Still reluctant to totally approve of Capital H, Tittle had to admit this idea was brilliant.<\/p>\n

i stared at Capital H with the kind of adoration that made Tittle ill.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what kind of sentence can we make?\u201d Question Mark asked dejectedly. \u201cI haven\u2019t even got my dot. I\u2019m improper. You can\u2019t make a proper sentence without a proper question mark.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe loss of your dot is surely unfortunate Mr. Mark,\u201d Capital H said, \u201cbut I\u2019m sure a decent reader would be able to overlook it, given the circumstances.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle heard none of this. He was carefully examining the letters around him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI, why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Tittle, why what now?\u201d i asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no, it\u2019s the sentence we can make!\u201d Tittle exclaimed. \u201cWe\u2019ll have to arrange the poor comma appropriately, but it is possible.<\/p>\n

\u201cGenius!\u201d Capital H grabbed Tittle off his i and kissed him, much to Tittle\u2019s discomfort. \u201cNot only is that an entire sentence, by Capital G of God, we could be an entire book in a two word sentence and poem. You\u2019re brilliant, Tittle!\u201d<\/p>\n

As Capital H set about arranging the others, Tittle leaned down to his i.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis sentence will also make you a name letter by pronoun association, which is nearly as a good as being born a name letter. You and Capital H would be, well, proper.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Tittle!\u201d i gasped. \u201cYou are <\/em>a genius.\u201d<\/p>\n

The voices of the readers were getting closer. Tittle could almost make out what they were saying.<\/p>\n

\u201ci, quickly!\u201d Capital H called from between w and y, \u201cYou must take your place in front of the comma before they reach our book!\u201d<\/p>\n

Trying not to giggle at Capital H\u2019s awkward position between the two lowercases, i hopped into her place. Not more than a second later, there was a tiny cough near i\u2019s foot.<\/p>\n

The comma twitched and stretched as the others stared at her in shock. She looked at them with equal confusion.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere am I?\u201d She asked. \u201cOh dear, this is not my sentence. And- gyup!\u201d Comma turned a laugh into an odd hiccupping sound. \u201cWhat is that Capital doing between to lowercases? That is just\u2026 just\u2026\u201d Her voice faltered as she looked at her surroundings.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Comma.\u201d i said. \u201cDo you remember what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s suddenly coming back to me.\u201d Comma whispered. \u201cOh Capital G of God, everyone\u2019s gone\u2026 What happened to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cComma, you- you were in a coma.\u201d i explained. \u201cWe tried everything we could to wake you, but-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you created this sentence just for me!\u201d Comma chirped in a flurry of excitement. \u201cOh, how did you know it would wake me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Once again the others could only stare at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t\u2026\u201d Tittle said, shock making his words blunt. \u201cWe did this because the readers are coming. We didn\u2019t want to die unread.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2026\u201d Comma said, she frowned slightly before immediately perking up again. \u201cWell, it is a clever coincidence anyway, since I was in a coma and all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t mind my asking,\u201d Capital H said, \u201chow is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s like this.\u201d Comma took a deep breath. \u201cA comma represents a pause, right? In a sentence, that pause is short, just a breath\u2019s length. But when a comma loses her sentence, that pause will stretch on forever into a coma. Getting her back into a sentence is the only way to revive a comma in a coma.\u201d<\/p>\n

The comma gave them all a small smile. Tittle felt the urge to say something, anything she might find clever. As Comma was speaking, it had dawned on Tittle that she was the most beautiful figure of ink he had ever seen. Though his tiny muscles were still aching from the rescue mission, he was immensely glad to have made the trip.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, the sentence was my idea.\u201d He said awkwardly.<\/p>\n

Capital H chuckled.<\/p>\n

Before Comma could respond, there was a great, earth-shaking jolt to their page.<\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone, shh! We\u2019ve been picked up!\u201d Capital H whispered.<\/p>\n

Tittles heart felt like a miniscule hummingbird trapped in his chest. After all the chaos, everything suddenly felt right. Even through the soggy pages, he could already feel the warmth of the reader\u2019s hand seeping through, seemingly into Tittle\u2019s very soul.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s one that hasn\u2019t been completely destroyed,\u201d said the reader, his huge voice vibrating slowly through the pages. Tittle could hear another reader\u2019s footsteps approaching and thought excitedly that they might be read twice before they were tossed.<\/p>\n

Slowly, the cover and preceding pages were turned away. Light struck their page so suddenly and so bright that Tittle thought for a panicked moment that the book at caught fire again. First he heard his i gasp, and then he saw them, the most glorious sight any letter on any page ever sees.<\/p>\n

The reader\u2019s eyes were dark, chocolate brown. The eyes were shaded by a yellow helmet, the skin around them was stained with ash and some of the eyelashes were singed. Tittle had never seen a more beautiful set of eyes. As those eyes gazed on Tittle and the sentence in which he stood, they widened in amazement. They read Tittle\u2019s sentence, read it again, and then read it once more.<\/p>\n

Tittle found himself short of breath. He could hear the others gasping raggedly around him. Being read so many times in quick succession was more pleasurable that he could ever have imagined, but it was exhausting. Even as he regained his breath, he found himself already missing the eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at this,\u201d the brown-eyed reader said, \u201cit\u2019s incredible. How do you suppose this happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe called us incredible!\u201d Comma squeaked.<\/p>\n

The book was passed to another reader. This reader too was ash-stained. His eyes were hazel-green and soon gained the same rapt expression as the ones before. The hazel eyes read the sentence several times over, until the letters were panting and shaking again.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is more than incredible, it\u2019s unbelievable!\u201d The hazel-eyed reader said.<\/p>\n

\u201cUnbelievable\u2026\u201d w sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just not plausible\u2026\u201d The reader flipped through the remaining pages in the book, giving Tittle\u2019s sentence a much-needed rest. He was back to their page in a matter of seconds.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll the other pages are blank.\u201d He said. \u201cHow could there only be one sentence in this entire chunk of book? And it\u2019s not even right\u2026 the cases are all wrong. Do you see that? But still, it\u2019s poetry, man. We have to show this to someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

He snapped the cover shut on the ecstatic letters.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you hear that?\u201d Comma gasped.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re not going to be tossed!\u201d Tittle exclaimed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat reader had such gorgeous eyes\u2026\u201d w swooned. \u201cI wish he would read us again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe he will!\u201d Question Mark said. \u201cDidn\u2019t you hear him? He\u2019s going to show us to someone, we\u2019ll be read again!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDear me, yes.\u201d Capital H said. \u201cand perhaps not so ferociously next time, that was trying sport with those readers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat, couldn\u2019t keep up, Capital?\u201d y teased.<\/p>\n

They all laughed giddily.<\/p>\n

It was a moment before Tittle noticed that his i was being oddly silent throughout the jubilations.<\/p>\n

\u201ci, are you alright?\u201d He asked. i only sniffed in response.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not sad at such a time, are you, i?\u201d Capital H turned to her. \u201cWe have lost much, it\u2019s true, but now is the time of our salvation!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Capital!\u201d i said suddenly. Tittle braced himself for an embarrassing explosion of emotion. \u201cDidn\u2019t you hear that reader? The cases aren\u2019t right, I\u2019ll never pass as a name letter, never! Not even by pronoun association. How did you do it, Capital H?\u201d<\/p>\n

Tittle relaxed a bit, this was not the explosion he had feared.<\/p>\n

Capital H shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou must understand, i, I was born a Capital and a name letter. I have stood forever in my place at the front of the name Harry and had all the pleasures of life thrown at my feet. But I was always supported by my comrades; a, the r twins, y\u2026 how I miss them now.\u201d Capital H paused, briefly lost in his memories. \u201cNeither I nor they could ever have been what you are now, i. You are not just a name letter, you are a word in and of yourself, and a damn fine word you make, i. Would those readers have read us so many times if you were anything less than amazing?\u201d<\/p>\n

i blushed and giggled helplessly. Capital H smiled back at her. Tittle rolled his eyes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Over the next few days, the corner of the book and the sentence \u201ci, wHy?\u201d (short one dot below the question mark) were passed from reader to reader. Each reader insisted on reading the sentence several times before they could set aside the book\u2019s burnt remains. Such was life in the charred corner of what had once been a young adult reading phenomenon, until the book fell into the hands of Librarian Thompson.<\/p>\n

Librarian Thompson was a very old, very thin woman. Tittle\u2019s first impression when the librarian picked up their book was of the distinct lack of warmth in her hands. But she held the book corner with great care, and despite their chill, Librarian Thompson\u2019s hands felt like home.<\/p>\n

The librarian had round, ice blue eyes that were comically magnified by her square glasses. She only read the sentence once, which made w whine for the hazel-eyed reader. Librarian Thompson then promptly proclaimed the book to be a miracle of the literary kind.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis should be set in a display box.\u201d Librarian Thompson said crisply. \u201cIt will be placed in a central area. The book is obviously fragile, but such a state should not keep its contents from being read by all.\u201d<\/p>\n

The letters gasped.<\/p>\n

\u201cRead by all<\/em>?\u201d Question Mark breathed.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I do like this woman,\u201d Capital H said, \u201cI like her very much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe must be the most fortunate letters since f of fortune was made Capital F of Fortune\u2019s Fool!\u201d Tittle squeaked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just excited about the display box.\u201d Comma bubbled.<\/p>\n

In the gentle care of Librarian Thompson\u2019s cold, dry hands, the book fragment was cleaned and polished as much as was possible in its state. The librarian then carefully propped the book corner open on a little plastic stand and placed a square glass cover over it for protection.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you just look at that glass shine!\u201d Comma squealed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the life.\u201d i said, casting an adoring glance at Capital H. The Capital winked back at her.<\/p>\n

Librarian Thompson set their display box on a pedestal. Her hands snapped to her hips and she peered down at them with her bespectacled gaze. The librarian read them slowly and thoughtfully, almost as if she could hear the letters on the page sigh with the pleasure of being read. She then placed a small golden card on the outside of the box, which Tittle could only assume was the story of the book corner\u2019s origin.<\/p>\n

Tittle settled back against the page as reader after reader passed by the display box. Over and over again they were read. They were read by men and women of all ages and races and walks of life, and each was one was impressed by the sentence. Even the hazel-eyed reader from the burning bookstore returned several times, much to w\u2019s glee.<\/p>\n

The letters did not need to speak to one-another to convey their sublime feelings. Far from being tossed, the little sentence had been put on display in the Heaven-on-Earth of books and letters: a library.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I love this story.\u00a0 I love this idea of the written language having life, and I love how it’s done here.\u00a0 (And if I have to spell out why I’m biased, you’ll miss the point.) Seriously, the writing and soul of the characters is superb — you can tell, easily, where the author spilled their […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-354","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/354","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=354"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/354\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":361,"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/354\/revisions\/361"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ethillery.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=354"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}