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Suicidal Birds
Down in the Dirt (v138)
(the July/August 2016 Issue)




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Voices in the night

Benjamin Green

    “I mean it, young lady! Go-to-bed!”
    “But mo-om...” Jenny Reese cried.
    Her mother cut her off. “No buts! Go!”
    Jenny tried puffing herself up, and pouting. Sometimes, it worked. Not this time, though. Her mother was as stone-faced, and unmoving as an ancient idol. The unspoken subtext was a threat to talk to her father. If she continued to persist, the threat would be verbalized.
    With as much defiance as she was capable of mustering, Jenny gave a loud huff, and marched to her bedroom. It wasn’t that she was such a bad little girl. Her mother told her all the time that she was one of the best little eight year old girls she had ever seen.
    The truth was, fear was driving her intransigence. She had heard the voices whispering that it was coming. She didn’t know what it was, but she wasn’t keen about finding out. She had been hearing the voices for about a year now. They always came out at night, and spoke in hushed whispers.
    At first, she had been scared of them. She tried telling her mother about them, but she never heard them. At first, she suggested to her daughter that she was asleep, and had dreamed the voices. When Jenny didn’t let go of the issue, she became concerned. She took her to go to see a man who asked a lot of questions about her dreams.
    She decided that she liked the man with the prying questions less than the voices. So she told her mother that the voices had been a dream after all. Soon afterward, she no longer had to go see the nosy man.
    Jenny also began looking for answers on the playground. The other kids were much more sympathetic to her problem than her mother had been. However, they only talked about the monster under the bed, and the thing in the closet.
    She soon realized they didn’t know any more than she did. So she decided not to worry about them. For awhile, that seemed to work. They just whispered to each other in quiet tones. They also talked about things that she couldn’t understand. However, she got used to them, and they stopped bothering her.
    If it would have stayed that way, it would have been the end of the issue. Unfortunately, one night she thought she heard them whispering about her. At last, they quieted down. Of course, she remained awake all night, wondering what was going to happen.
    Night after night, it continued. She started falling asleep, but it was plagued with nightmares. Her mother began commenting on the dark bags under her eyes. She wanted to scream that it was because her mother wouldn’t listen to her. Of course, she didn’t say it. She was afraid she would have go see the man who asked all the questions.
    Finally, she realized they were talking about her, and that something was coming for her. The voices never said what it was, but her imagination worked overtime to fill in the blanks. All the stories she heard on the playground came back to haunt her.
    As she walked to her room, she wondered with morbid curiosity if it would come from underneath the bed, or from the closet. The voices were waiting for her as she came into the bedroom.
    “It’s coming for her tonight, you know.”
    “Poor girl.”
    “Yes there’s no way she can escape.”
    The words sent icy waves through her. It felt like her bladder would go at any minute. She slunk into bed, and tried forgetting what the voices had just said. Unfortunately, he mind refused to let her have any peace.
    They kept up their whispered conversation, and her mind kept turning over what it might do to her. Eventually, she dropped off into a troubled doze.
    She wasn’t sure what had woken her, but she was clammy with sweat. The voices were whispering, “It’s coming! It’s coming! It’s coming!” Soon, they fell silent. The sudden silence was even more menacing than anything they had said.
    A creaking sound caused her to start quaking under the covers. Her breath caught in her throat, as a scream lodged there. Her eyes rolled toward the closet.
    The door had opened a crack, and four long, gnarled fingers appeared. The skin was dark and leathery, with a long nail at the end of each. The hand kept pushing the door open, until it revealed a pair of glowing malevolent red eyes in the darkness.
    Jenny’s bladder let go with a hot rush. A girlish squeal escaped her as she pulled the blankets over her head. Her breath was coming in harsh rasps, and her heart was trip hammering in her chest. In her mind, a panicky voice was telling her to run, to get away.
    Despite her brain’s desperate pleas, she remained rooted to the spot. She felt a small pressure at her feet, and began whimpering. Bit by bit, she felt whatever it was moving over her prone body. Up past her knees, along her thighs, and onto her stomach.
    Once it reached her chest, it stopped. Jenny was torn between wanting to hide, and curiosity. The debate raged in her head for a long moment. Curiosity won out by pointing out that a couple layers of blankets didn’t make a very good shield.
    She lowered them below eye level, and peered over them. Her eyes got as wide as saucers, and her breath stopped. Standing on her chest was a foot tall ghost. It wore a robe and cowl of a dark material that hid its face. The only thing visible was a pair of glowing red eyes.
    Its hands had long fingers that ended in sharp hooks. Jenny stared at it, mute with fear. It stared back at her, cocking its head. She waited for the ghost to make its move. At last, it did. It stuck out its tongue, and gave her a loud raspberry.



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