8/4/22 Voices (Part 2)

 Voices (Part 2)

“What is it?” the man asks, staring deeply into the unnerving fog.

“It is our world,” the childlike voices respond in unison.

“Our world is leaking into yours and destroying ours,” the second voice says.

“We are dying,” the third voice says sadly.

“Help us,” says the familiar first voice.

“I assume you want me to close it?” the man asks. He gets no verbal reply, but can feel the voices telling him yes. “How do I do that?”

“Close it,” the unhelpful first voice says.

“HOW DO I DO THAT?” the man repeats louder.

“It is a door,” the second voice says.

“Have faith,” they all say to him.

“A door? This is a ball of fog, how am I supposed to close it like a door?” The voices stay silent. The man doesn’t know if they just expect him to know, or if they do not know themselves. 

“Please hurry,” a tiny fourth voice pleads. The voice was so soft, it brought tears to the man’s eye. His heart began to break for this childlike voice.

“Alright,” the man grumbled, pulling himself together. He looked at the fog and began to size it up in his mind, “A door, just a door, like the kid said. How do you close a door?” he rhetorically asks himself, “Like this!” The man puts his hands on each side of the foggy hole and begins to press his hands together. Just like he thought, there was nothing to grab or press and his hands went straight through the fog, clapping together, the door still open.

“Have faith,” they all whisper once again.

The man takes a deep breath. “Close the door.” Determined he goes again, this time not imagining his hands will fade through the fog, but that he will grab the edge of the door and push them shut. His belief works and when he pulls his arms together, his hands grasp onto a circular object. He presses together as hard as he can, the circle gives him much resistance.

“COME ON, SHUT!” he yells, putting all his energy into one big push. The two sides of the circle bend and come together, closing the doorway. Breathing heavily, the man takes a step back. “YEAHHHHHH!” he yells, throwing his arms up in the air. The fog was gone.

“Thank you,” the choir of childlike voices said one last time. He never heard those voices ever again, but he could sleep at night knowing that they, whatever they were, were safe. 

The End

8/4/22