The Voice

More like a very short story.

The Voice

Mariah Jane Brosseau

4-24-2013

 

 

“It’s chilly out today.” She thought as she quietly sipped on her mocha in the coffee shop lounge. “Not much happening today. In fact, not much ever happens. I wonder if life ever gets more interesting or if it I just continues to dredge on and on in this never ending cycle of blind stupidity and hopeless love.” She took another sip but was suddenly aware that an unfamiliar presence surrounded her mind…and it spoke.

“Life couldn’t be as bad as that. If it were, why would people keep living it? Why not seek out something greater; something worth living for?”

The young woman looked around for the one who had spoken to her, but found none that could have done so. She tentatively began thinking a response.

“That is just it. People don’t even realize that there could be more; that they could pursue better. They assume that the cards that have been dealt to them are all they get. Sure, some make the best of it, and some even fight it, but ultimately they lose all hope and faith unless they are one of the lucky few whose dreams and aspirations come true and actually fulfill their deepest needs and desires.”

The voice in her mind, if you could really call it that, became stronger and more certain. It seemed to envelope her very being in an alien sensation that could only be described as warm, curious, gentle, and perhaps even a little sensual.

“And you, what is it that you believe? Do you accept your fate, do you fight it, or do you wish to make it?”

By this point, the young woman was beginning to feel uncomfortable…her private thoughts now an open book to someone, somewhere. Her fair cheeks grew warm but she shivered involuntarily as she took a sip of her drink. She absent-mindedly tugged on the long-red braid that hung over her shoulder and she contemplated how best to respond…she then realized it was likely that this mysterious being could already know all these thoughts so she quickly decided to answer as simply as she could.

“I don’t want to live with the fate I am currently in. I wish to fight it…and in so doing, I wish to make my own. However, I don’t even know what to choose or how to find what I want or need.” She paused momentarily before continuing. “I feel lost, alone and dejected; left to find my own way amongst those that seek only to destroy what hope I have.”

There was a still silence and she began to feel as though maybe she was alone again, but then the voice spoke once more.

“What if, then, you were led?”

The woman blinked rapidly and couldn’t shake the feeling of disbelief that flooded her.

“Led? Led by whom? How can one lead another to their fate? Isn’t it for them to decide what is best for themselves on where they should go or what they should do?”

“But you, yourself stated that you are lost and in need of assistance to find what you truly want and need. Do not most people feel this way? What if there was a way for someone to be led to exactly what they need? A way for hope to endure and deepest desires to be met?”

The woman paused and considered what was being said to her. She tapped the side of her cup.

“I suppose, then, that it would be best to follow said person…best to do what it was that was set before them to do. But who is capable of such a thing?”

A cool, sweet feeling sent shivers up and down her spine as she sat in the coffee shop, the sun spilling in through the windows, warming her body. The voice answered calmly, but strong, with a confidence that could not be questioned.

“I am.”

Silence followed. She sat stunned…motionless and in awe.

“I don’t even know who, or what, you are. How will I find you and know you?”

A stillness and calm flowed over her as the voice spoke again.

“I am what I am. I have been, and will always be, with you. There is not a place you can go that I am not there. Seek me, and you shall always find me.”

The girl was quiet again, and felt a something cold hit her hand. She reached up and touched her cheek, realizing she had started to cry. She wiped her eyes and grabbed a napkin to clean away the stains. She took a deep breath and glanced around her to see if anyone had noticed. No one seemed to have even cared that she was sitting there. She smiled and looked down at her coffee.

“Lead me.” Came a whisper of a thought.

“Always.”Came the gentle answer. 

Author's Note

I wrote this today in a coffee shop...on a napkin. Please, tell me what you think when you read this...what is happening here? Who is the speaker? I'm quite curious to your responses. :)

Reviews

[joshua deathdealer]

This is intriguing, even breathtaking. Great ending and story. Excellent work.

[Caitlin Lea]

I quite like this! As I mentioned before, I think it is one of the best things I've read from you! :D