|Spirit Voices (standard:Ghost stories, 1992 words)|
|Author: Sushi||Added: Jan 08 2010||Views/Reads: 1484/748||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|This is a story about the link between generations that surpasses death. The strength and the necessity of that bond in the caribbean woman's life.|
Marie looked towards the window trying to discern where the sounds were coming from. She knew it was not outside but there some instinct causing her to believe in her own false reality. The lies of her imagination were easier, perhaps, to accept than the truth. For three months she heard the voices at night. Just as she was about to close her eyes in her dark room, she felt the coolness of the sheets against her bare skin and the warmth of the pillow as she made her final turn. Then one by one they would start. First it was always a low moan, whispery so she wasn't sure that she was actually hearing anything at all, then they would trail into the room through the lattice work of the balcony and in through the window. Fear paralyzed her growing worse when she realized that she would not be able to run if they did become threatening, they had not seemed to want to hurt her though and with time, because they came every night, she began to listen. They spoke to each other it would seem, sounding like the Babel banshees, she could not understand a thing they were saying but knew that it was important that she understand. What she knew was that these women were trying to talk to her. Tonight the noise was louder, she heard them just outside drawing nearer slowly but coming. The balcony to her room over looked the garden below and during the day she would sit out there enjoying the breeze coming up the hill to kiss her cheeks. There was a glass door separating her from the cold night air at night, though she preferred this time. The glass shone and the room was flooded with light at different times as moons peeped in at her sleeping figure. She would undress in front of the moon allowing the light to bathe her skin, to soak into her hair causing the brown strands to catch it and shimmer it back around the room. She liked to look at herself in the mirror while she did this. Her reflection looked like a different person and kept her company her eyes knowing, and Marie swore that if she looked hard enough she could spot slight differences. Tonight was a full moon and she could feel the magic of some sort in the air around her as she undressed earlier. Usually she would don a white night gown before settling into her bed, tonight she wanted that full moon lightness to wash into her all night. She wanted to grow in it while she slept. And now her eyes closing slowly to that light, the voices drawing nearer she made one last effort to see. She was not sure what there was to see but the goose bumps on her skin told her there was going to be something. Her eyes rolled towards the glass doors and for a moment a shadow stood at the door. Marie stared at the figure waiting for movement, wondering if she really was seeing it and trying to decide if it were something alive or dead. The darkness lurked at the doors it's back turned to Marie, seeming not to even notice her trembling figure crunched up on the bed. It began to dance. At first it was a simple side to side sweeping but it added a swirl here and a twirl there. Marie stared still not knowing what to make of this strange happening. She could still hear the voices. There was calm about them, the babbling was a whisper now floating around the room drawing Marie to it. Marie closed her eyes for a second trying to follow the whispery conversations through the lattice work. Still a strange language; always a strange language. It was like something she knew, something she heard all the time, but could not listen to it, could not understand. She opened her eyes and found the glass doors to find the figure staring at her. The eyes were dead. There was no light there, no joy. It was a woman she could see, but her lips were sewn together, she had Marie's nose, and hair. Marie recognized her but like the strange language, she did not know who she was or what she wanted. The skirts the figure wore swayed in the breeze and flapped off to the left, showing Marie that she wore tattered shoes like she had been walking a long distance. There was a tear running down her cheek, her mouth quivered like she was trying to say something. She raised a dark hand to the glass, it bore cuts and bruises, the palm had corns at the base of the fingers that squashed down as he pressed both palms against the glass doors. Marie was afraid now but she found herself slowly taking her sheets away from her body. She sat in the bed looking at this figure, her own eyes filling with tears. Marie recognized its face as her own, it was not a relative of some sort as she had thought but herself. She was looking at herself in the face and could not understand. She walked towards the glass doors. With every step she made the figure peeled off a piece of clothing. They were both completely naked. Marie was shocked to see the skin of this reflection caked with dirt. Her nails were torn off her hands, her stomach sagged like an empty sack and blood ran down her legs. Marie gasped and placed her hand on her own stomach, she looked down at it quickly not wanting to take her eyes off this woman looking back at her. She felt a pang of pain at the bottom of her back. She grabbed at the pain, her eyes Click here to read the rest of this story (81 more lines)
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