Little Voices

PROLOGUE

Hey.

The pounding in my head starts to make my brain ache.

Hey.

I can't feel my limbs, but I know they're there, somewhere. Hopefully still attached to my body. I can't move, either. I know I shouldn't be lying here. It's wet and damp. I don't care. I can't care anymore.

Hey, the strange voice says again. Hey, wake up.

I don't want to wake up. Let me sleep. Let me die.

Oh, darling, you're far from dying.

Why? I'm fine with dying. I want to die, there's nothing wrong with that. Really.

You're pathetic. You need to open your eyes, the voice ignores me. Hey. Open your eyes.

Go away. Leave me alone.

Please, it insists. Look at me.

I grunt, obviously annoyed by the voice's rudeness and try to open my eyes. My eyelids are heavy. Heavier than I can handle.

I can't move, I inform the voice, still in plain darkness. I can't move. Are you happy now?

I think I can hear it smirk. Don't be a quitter and open your eyes.

What's the problem with being a quitter? I don't even need your help, go away, I say for the a hundredth time.

Get up, we don't have the whole day to waste.

Don't you have somewhere else to be?

No, it pauses for a moment. No, not really.

Oh, great. Could you at least help me out?

I thought you didn't need my help.

Can you?, I repeat.

How?

I told you, I can't move, I mentally roll my eyes.

That's your problem, the voice says casually. I think it sighs. If voices sigh. But you seriously need to open your eyes.

You're bossy, I protest, slowly giving up on the chances of actually communicating with the arrogant voice. Stop being bossy, I hate bossy people.

I'm also the only thing you have left. And I'm not people, so deal with it, it points out.

I feel the need to sigh but I don't know how to achieve that, without having any sort of feeling of actually breathing. I gather as much strength as I have left in my essence and squeeze my eyes.

In the third try, a white light is blinding my vision.

What did you do?, I ask the voice. What did you do? Did you help me? I can see. Not much aside the blinding white light, but let's not be resentful here.

I did nothing, the voice says.

Are you sure?

Positive, it assures me, as if helping me out would be wrong. It could have been God, you know.

I feel my eyebrows frown and I don't want to have the Being An Atheist And All The Kind Of Wrongs In Being One pep talk. I gain a remote sense of feeling and frankly, that's great, because, hey ― I still have eyebrows. God doesn't exist.

How do you know? I might be God.

Hilarious. Voices can tell jokes too; one more thing to add to my awesome list about close encounters with symptoms of paranoia. Things can't get any better, I'm sure.

I'm talking to you and you can't see me.

Hold your horses, I can't see anything else just yet, I remind the voice. Besides, you can't be God. You're too annoying.

So you do believe in God.

Shut up, I flicker my eyes, but the brightness does not leave and it's getting annoying. What's your name?

Call me God, the voice jokes again.

I'll call you Graig.

Why Graig?, it sounds almost offended. Do I sound like a male to you?

You don't sound like a woman either. Graig it is.

I don't like you.

You're the one who wanted to chit-chat, in the first place, I remind Graig. You can always leave my head and go weird out someone else.

As the light loses its power, I hear him say, But then, who would you have to keep you company? You're all alone now.

I wait for a couple of minutes to get used to the actual sighting of, well, something, besides black and white. I look around, at the lifeless landscape and there's no one else there. The voice remains in my head, without a body for me to look at or better yet frown upon at. I can only smell and see dirt. And, indeed, the only thing in the far horizon is just red dust, welcoming and waving at me. I fully embrace the fact that this is my personal hell, with no possible way of surviving out of this.

Yeah, all alone now, I get it, I nod. An enormous land full of mad and no people or sign of any other form of life? I smile. But so are you. Plus, I get to keep the body.