Voices

Voices…

This ring had been given to her as a betrothal, a promissory of
marriage by her one love.  The ring once belonged to his great
grandmother.  He told her of the stories of its history, and how his
great grandmother, and grandmother had both gone insane several years
after being married and wearing the ring.  He didn't put such stock in
such superstitions, and was quite determined to break this silly
family story.  I happy accepted and wore the ring to help support the
story was quite silly and should be paid no heed.

I was a pretty lass of 21 when this occurred, and I was the daughter
of an esteemed lawyer, and my mother descended from aristocracy.  My
beau, when he proposed, was in his last year to study medicine, and
had already been accepted by an acquaintance of my father as a partner
in his practice.  Our lives were to be perfect, a reflection in the
stories of living happily ever after that father read to me as a
child.

My days now were spent in planning of a wedding that was to come in
early fall.  It was at this time, that I began to hear the small
whispers.  At first, I didn't notice them.  it sounded like a light
breeze in my ear, and sometimes what sounded like a disconnected word.
 I attributed them to pre-wedding jitters and nerves associated with
all the details.

Often times, when I felt the most nervous, I would set out for a walk
around the grounds of my home.  I would look at this ring I was given,
twisting it around my finger, noting that it seemed to fit perfectly
upon my finger, even more perfectly than when it had first been put on
me.  It seemed to sparkle a little brighter, its gold more lustrous.
I would hear an occasional word, sometimes 2 or 3, as if they floated
on the wind.  I shook them off as my own thoughts, out of place in
confusing and sometimes overwhelming events happening around me.
As the weeks went by,  the date of the wedding was becoming ever
closer, we practiced the ceremony.  As we practiced walking down the
aisle, I was told that to get over the jitters, to repeat to myself
'just a few more steps'.  This would make it ever so easy!  Just a few
more steps!

Each day approaching that fateful, seemed not to settle my fears, but
to expound them.  The only solace and peace I would find were my walks
in my parents’ garden.  The whispers I heard were becoming clearer.  I
could hear the voice.  It was quiet, but peaceful, and in my tranquil
spot amongst the flowers, I would respond.  The voice I thought was my
own, I would softly respond back to me.  However, the voice did little
to change my fears.  It almost seemed to leave me with a calmed
terror.  It would whisper to me things, very strange things.  They
told me stories that I thought my silly brain had made up based on the
stories I had been told about this ring.  Stories about how
great-gramma and grandmother had been committed, because they seemed
to be talking to themselves.  Very silly.  My imagination will get
away from me at times!

The months turned to weeks, and then to the 5 days before.  I had been
spending more time alone, only helping with the preparation when I was
absolutely needed.  These silly stories I kept hearing were getting
clearer, and more intense.  I was hearing more of what they were
telling me to do, and where I must go, that I must leave this place.
I began to be scared by this.  The ring that I wore, now was fitting
too tightly on my finger, and it would not move from its place, no
matter what I tried.

Each morning, I would awake, not to silence, but to the voices.  2 of
them, very clearly, telling me what I was to do.  How I could help
them, and myself.  They told me of their anguish of the years they
were held against their will, talking to what appeared to be
themselves, but what was a voice that seemed to whisper to them on the
wind.  It had consumed them, and they could not hear anything else but
the voice that would talk to them, at all times of the day and night,
nary letting them sleep at times.  It would consume them entirely
until they went mad from sleep deprivation and the voices continuously
speaking to them.

 I tried in vain to remove the ring.  It was biting into my flesh, and
I could barely touch it, for it would cause me severe pain if I did.
The voices were talking all the time, almost screaming in my ears as
the wind of a storm would howl through the trees.  I couldn't block it
out.  There was only one thing to do to stop this torment.  If I did
not stop this, I would end up like them.

I awoke early the day before the wedding.  The voices still with me,
but now calm.  They knew me.  They knew what I would do.  They knew by
now, I had no choice.

I began to glide downstairs, feeling contentment pouring from me with
every step. I knew this was the right thing to do.

As I moved outside, I felt joy in my heart.  I walked down to the pond
by the edge of the garden, feeling complete ecstasy.

I walked out into the water, with the voices in my head repeating
'just a few more steps...  just a few more steps'...


until I had walked far enough that all the voices, including my own,
were silent.