Whispers

I dreamed of nothing and prayed for silence.

I never liked noise, it’s grating. Hence, I moved. Away from people, busy streets, away from everything that went on, all of the time. In this new house I was expecting pure silence. The home was located on the outskirts of the city, reminiscent of an old cottage– small inside though riddled with vacant rooms, holding repetitive purposes. This may seem eery to some, however for me this was perfect. However, nothing in this existence is perfect. Imperfections start to show when the floor creaks in certain rooms. Mainly the bedroom and living room. I could avoid the living room, since I don't plan to do much living to gartant going in there. Though the bedrooms were a different story. Besides the creaking it had a strange feel. It was colder and darker than the rest. Winds howled and the balcony would taunt my existence. It felt like there was another presence which lingered in that room; a presence which teased and mocked me, despite their silence in the beginning. I couldn’t do anything about it or really stress myself out trying to fix it– so I lived with it. I avoided the room during the day, and rushed like a scared child to bed at night.

The first night there was quiet besides the hollow wails of wind disturbing me now and again. The nights that follow weren’t different either, mundane. However, it wasn’t until around the seventh night, something sprouted. A voice was heard, a sweet one, that’s ripped with the devil’s fruit. Distorted whispers dipped with sweetness, the words were incoherent despite dancing effortlessly in the silent night. The voice toyed with me, ridiculing my quest for quiet. I couldn't understand what was being said, and I wished I could say that I didn’t want to. However, it struck something in me. A strange inkling of sick curiosity that would build as the nights went on. The next day I woke up in a sweat, succumbing  to the notion that those whispers I was hearing were just a mere dream.  

The day after was like any other, enjoying the peace in solitude. Unaware of what began to haunt me, not taking caution of what’s to come the next. As darkness emerged, I crept like a fool on the floorboards of my room. They creaked, mimicking the sound of a frog’s croak. I tried my best to ignore any disturbance however my sleep was hindered by the whispers once more. Again, I couldn’t understand the words that voice divulged. Though, this time the voice became clearer; mainly the tune. It reminded me of an old piano, it should be peaceful however fails under its distortion and false pitch.

As the sun rose, I woke up. Practically in the same matter as the last; I was hindered, confused yet curious on what happened previously. Once is strange, twice is just a coincidence. Surely those dreams won’t recur again right?

Truly, the thought process was poor. Those damn dreams came every night. Messing with my sanity and slumber. Every night the voice became pronounced and the words more evident. The voice. No… her sound was that of a siren’s in its eroticism.Words, despite being simple, were phrases of candied agony.

“....With a rifle, come kiss me with a smile.” 

“Join me in eternal suffering”

These whispers tortured me for nights on end, breaching my pact with silence. Only a fool would be damned to succumb to these whispers; and like that very fool I did. I did fall unknowingly, taking my idiocracy and hidden desires to let those dreams which drip succubus tongue taunt and arouse me.

Day after day, I tried to fight. I really did, however cursed with curiosity, my time of solitude in the day was now overwhelmed with the urge to figure out where these whispers came from. This was a fool’s game, and I was playing it like a pro. Starting with casual queries of whose voice this is, to countless hours spent retracing my memories of different voices, faces, people that I all left behind without a word, to find some link to this voice that haunts me. However in its familiarity the voice was far, untraceable.. Days were spent in the very thing I despise, as I mumbled mimicking each word, trying to find the origin. 

Nights were spent being tormented by this succubus. Warm beauty was wrapped with each word that advocated for my demise, and beckoned me to her heavenly touch .

I’ll be damned to remember which night but at a point, the view of these whispers started to shift. I started to welcome these dreams, looking forward to night just to hear the dire words this woman had in store for me. I gave in to Stockholm syndrome. Falling victim to fantasizing about this woman, daydreaming about seeing her in flesh, hearing her sick pillow talk, in real time. I painted a picture of what her sweet embrace may feel like, what sensation her mere touch would make me feel. I wanted to experience it. I can’t believe it… I'm worse than middle school boys…. Truly I wanted to see her. I was forcing myself into insanity. I wanted to get on my knees and beg like a dog for a sign, an opportunity to put my lust to rest.

Night spurred again. I walked on the floorboard that shrieked once more, dazed– unbothered by the sounds by this point. Not even the cries of the wind threw me off. The noises seemed to be more welcoming the more I got used to it. I slid into bed, my mind was absorbed with eagerness, as I tried my hardest to hear her dictate to me, once more.

“Join me. Come for the sweet release. I need you”

She was at it again, whispering over and over. Singing her siren song, urging me. “Be with me, my love, come into the abyss”

Her words, her sick words called for me. God, I needed her, I needed her whispers, her desires. But how am I supposed to join her? She recycled those words again and again, trying to give me some clues. ‘Sweet release.’ ‘Dark abyss.’ Those phrases, those key phrases were clearly trying to fight my density. After that, those words rang into my ears, only getting louder as time went on, until I finally understood.

The final night, I went to bed. Sleeping through the filler, to get to those candied mutters. She repeated the same phrases, believing repetition will come through in the end. 

Hard work always prevails, as I woke up during the whispers. My eyes were blurred as my view was fixed onto the balcony. The same balcony that taunted me in the beginning. I stepped towards it. Squinting as a smile came across my face. I stopped reaching the edge. Looking out towards the night sky where the moon barely shined. 

The night looked down at me, transforming into someone who was waiting for ages. After waiting for the sweet embrace. Finally, I got it. She stretched out her arms for me. Even now, I must say she was beautiful; just as beautiful as her voice. She covered the sky, a woman of star-freckled skin and light otherworldly eyes. She had a dull glow through it all. It felt like I was imagining this.

A victim to her charm, I reached out to her. She welcomed me into her arms. I tethered on the edge, as nothing held me back. 

This pitiful love story had come to an end, as that cottage... Away from society acquired silence once more.