Whispers


Tell me your dreams, he whispered.  Tell me your hopes, your darkest desires.  Share your secrets.  Unburden you soul.  His voice was seductive; husky and melodic.  It was enough to make a girl swoon.  It made a girl want to unburden her soul.

Tell me your fears.  He sang to her.  Confession is good for the soul.  You have much to confess.

The voice haunted her.  Night after night, it followed her through her dreams.  Tantalizingly beautiful, yet dark and dangerous, creating chaos as she slept.  It was always there, always whispering the same words to her.  Always singing for her to confess, to unburden her soul.

There was never a face.  Never an identity to go with the powerful voice.  It haunted her when she was awake.  She kept checking, listening for that voice to appear in the real world, expecting some man to come up beside her with that voice.

In her dreams, the voice filled her with fear and awe.  She didn’t know what it would do to her in the real world.  Terrify her, sooth her into confessing whatever sins she may or may not have committed.  She desired to tell that voice everything, but she didn’t.  She felt it already knew her sins.  She felt it was just waiting to hear the words come out of her mouth.

Sing for me.  Sing a song of your sins.  Tell me what darkness lurks inside you.  The voice again, another dream.  She awoke screaming, as she always did, unsure what might be hiding in the shadows of her room.  In her dreams, she did feel she had much to confess.  Awake the feeling passed and whatever sins the voice believed she had committed, she couldn’t identify.

Release is yours.  I will leave your dreams.  All I require is for you to confess.  To sing of your sins.  A different dream, the same night, another screaming fit as she struggled to pull herself awake.  She looked at her hands, covered in blood.  Where had it come from?  Had she injured herself?  She didn’t know.  Sleep was gone for the night.

After a shower, she began to dress for work.  She’d go in early today.  She wiped the steam from the mirror to dry her hair.  Behind her stood a man or she thought it was a man.  There was something wrong with him, but she couldn’t figure out what.  She turned, he wasn’t there, but his reflection was still visible in the mirror.

Confess for me.  His voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, screeching in her ears, shooting pains through her brain.  She collapsed and began to babble about her sins.

He smiled, cracked the bones in his neck and entered her.  Confession was good for the soul, it was even better at allowing possession.  He owned her now; mind, body, and soul.  She was his for eternity, to burn in the fires of hell.  Another day’s work for him.  Another soul to add to the flames.  And a gateway into her world, where he could claim so many more souls for his master.  It was a beautiful day.

©Hadena James 2014

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual situations is completely coincidental.

Tell me your dream, he whispered.  Tell me your hopes, your darkest desires.  Share your secrets.  Unburden you soul.  His voice was seductive; husky and melodic.  It was enough to make a girl swoon.  It made a girl want to unburden her soul.

Tell me your fears.  He sang to her.  Confession is good for the soul.  You have much to confess.

The voice haunted her.  Night after night, it followed her through her dreams.  Tantalizingly beautiful, yet dark and dangerous, creating chaos as she slept.  It was always there, always whispering the same words to her.  Always singing for her to confess, to unburden her soul.

There was never a face.  Never an identity to go with the powerful voice.  It haunted her when she was awake.  She kept checking, listening for that voice to appear in the real world, expecting some man to come up beside her with that voice.

In her dreams, the voice filled her with fear and awe.  She didn’t know what it would do to her in the real world.  Terrify her, sooth her into confessing whatever sins she may or may not have committed.  She desired to tell that voice everything, but she didn’t.  She felt it already knew her sins.  She felt it was just waiting to hear the words come out of her mouth.

Sing for me.  Sing a song of your sins.  Tell me what darkness lurks inside you.  The voice again, another dream.  She awoke screaming, as she always did, unsure what might be hiding in the shadows of her room.  In her dreams, she did feel she had much to confess.  Awake the feeling passed and whatever sins the voice believed she had committed, she couldn’t identify.

Release is yours.  I will leave your dreams.  All I require is for you to confess.  To sing of your sins.  A different dream, the same night, another screaming fit as she struggled to pull herself awake.  She looked at her hands, covered in blood.  Where had it come from?  Had she injured herself?  She didn’t know.  Sleep was gone for the night.

After a shower, she began to dress for work.  She’d go in early today.  She wiped the steam from the mirror to dry her hair.  Behind her stood a man or she thought it was a man.  There was something wrong with him, but she couldn’t figure out what.  She turned, he wasn’t there, but his reflection was still visible in the mirror.

Confess for me.  His voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, screeching in her ears, shooting pains through her brain.  She collapsed and began to babble about her sins.

He smiled, cracked the bones in his neck and entered her.  Confession was good for the soul, it was even better at allowing possession.  He owned her now; mind, body, and soul.  She was his for eternity, to burn in the fires of hell.  Another day’s work for him.  Another soul to add to the flames.  And a gateway into her world, where he could claim so many more souls for his master.  It was a beautiful day.

©Hadena James 2014

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual situations is completely coincidental.

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