She had heard it at the strangest times. When she was young, she had heard it one day while digging beneath the playground slide. It was there, in the cool darkness of the sand, deeper than her plastic shovel could go. Almost a song, more of a whisper. She never could dig deep enough to find it. Then, when she was older, she heard it again in the empty hallways of her high school. An uncanny sound, eerie and beckoning. Somewhere just around another corner, always in a deeper shadow than she could reach. There were other times, too. Times when possibilities stretched beyond her knowing. And those possibilities would sing, whisper, beckon.
Yet she had almost forgotten its call. In the years since, amid the certainty and structure of adulthood, there were few softly singing possibilities. But now, again, she heard it. Despite the beeping of machines, the droning of equipment, it was there. Echoing along the hospital corridors, singing from the labyrinth of passages. It beckoned, and though she could not lift herself from her bed, she could feel herself drawn to it. She could hear it becoming clearer. Drawing nearer. Closing her eyes, she gave way to the call of possibility.
∼ Miriam H. Harrison
© Copyright Miriam H. Harrison. All Rights Reserved.
Pen of the Damned 
A cool, intriguing story.
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Beautifully written
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What an intriguing and well crafted little piece!
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I like the opening with the child’s digging, and that theme throughout. As someone who worked many years in a psychiatric hospital, this haunting rings true. I like the intangible nature of the mysterious sound. I feel that there’s something positive coming through the sound. It’s not the way we usually think about “hearing voices.”
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