I can hear the whispering again…
For the last 2 years… On every full moon…the voices call to me…
Shiya…come…come to us…Shiya…the moon rises…come…
Every month, for the 2 years since I’d turned 18, I’d heard this soft, insistent voice, pushing, pulling, tugging at me.
Come…Shiya…come now…come to the circle…
“Shiya. Shiya! What the hell?! Are you listening?”
Shaking my head, I look up at Brenda, her staring, puzzled, back at me. My friend perched on her chair across the table from me, our coffees between us at the small town bakery we met at every other week for brunch. I knew she wanted to hear me tell her that everything was normal, that I was fine…but that was so not the truth.
“Sorry, Bren, I was…just – ah hell. I don’t know.”
I scrubbed my fingers through my hair, raking it back over my head, knowing it would be an unholy mess, and totally not caring.
“Shit, Shiya, it’s the voices again, isn’t it?”
“Shhhh!” I hushed quickly, glancing around the room to see who was looking. Last thing I wanted was for the local gossips to hear that I was hearing voices, for gods’ sake! Oh, that’d set the biddies up for a lifetime supply of stories over their fence lines, and my family would send me packing with the men driving the padded truck.
“I don’t want to talk about that here. Not now.”
“Ok, fine. But you know this is nuts, right?”
“I know.”
That night, the moon rose, silver and full.
And the whisper rose with it, filling my head.
And then, just in that moment as the moon shone overhead, I knew I had to get out, and I knew where to go.
To the trees…the whisper was coming from the trees…
Brea's Air 