Timeless

Unseen, but not unheard.

That was the hard truth she’d learned to accept in her younger years.

Well, the former had always been true. The latter was always a sticking point in her sanity. Sometimes the voices trailed behind her, lingering in open archways, calling to her from afar.

Their words are never able to form themselves into anything more than a distant query. She’d learned to stop asking for clarity, they would not give it. Maybe they were unable. She didn’t know, and frankly after so many years grew beyond caring.

The constant noise was enough to make anyone stark raving mad. Voices, voices, so many voices. It was maddening.

The past was now, the present tomorrow, and the future seemingly never to be. Stuck in time she thought. With nobody to commune with. What a pity it must be. A mere imprint of their lives, a pale echo of what was.

Long ago, almost further back than she could remember, her mother had pulled her aside. For what, she could not recall. She only remembered her soft black hair, how it swung into her eyes when she bent down to speak. It was pleasant. To be spoken to with such gravity.

So long ago. So long since she’d felt her mother. The warmth of her palm on her cheek. Her father and brother gone away in the same instant. Washed away into nothingness.

She’d consulted others, trying to find them. In their world. Wherever it was. To speak her last words, to lament the time stolen away on a rainy night.

Anger, frustration, passionate rage. On the worst nights they bubbled up without consequence. Her good intentions, her sweet nature washed away in brief bursts of violence.

Talk to me.

The slam of the door. Saved for only when she was truly enraged.

Listen to me.

A wail of anguish, echoing in the darkness.

No answer, save for the unintelligible whispers.

Speak up, speak up.

She could see them walk around.

Listen, listen.

On the nights where they huddled to grieve. She watched alone.

See me. See me.

It is so hard to be timeless without you.