The Voices; my Muses

I hear voices. I’ve heard them since I was little. I talk to them, debate with them, and they give me ideas; both good and bad.

Some people may call me a schizophrenic, but I don’t think so. I know the voices aren’t real, well not third party real. They are part of me, the Devil on one shoulder and God, I guess, on the other.

What’s weird is that the voices change, from time to time, currently the Devil is in the voice of Bane (Tom Hardy from Batman: The Dark Knight Rises). And God, has been a stalwart for many years, Patrick Stewart.

Bane normally steers me while I drive, shouting out his thoughts on the other drivers – though I think, at times, I really shout, the words emit at high volume. Not always in my own voice either, sometimes Bane rears his true self – but so far he always lets me back in to control.

Patrick is there when I am with my family, at peace, calm, serenity flows from his voice, so similar to Bane’s yet with such differing passion.

Patrick helps me to create fine upstanding protagonists in my work; and Bane, oh such marvellous, evil, deceitful antagonists…

In my next project, I will have one person who is both protagonist and antagonist, acting the good guy beautifully, while truly delving deeply into his dark centre. So my two friends will meet; I hope that they get on, and allow me to continue to be their friends.

But if I suddenly change, if I find God, or become an evil-doer, then one has destroyed the other, breaking the balance. And this, would rip out my soul, making me disappear.

I can hear them coming, the footsteps, both in time, yet eerily separate. I close my eyes, joining them in a dark antechamber, water, or blood, flowing through the middle of the room. I smile a greeting, and wait, patiently, hopefully…