Short Story : The Silent Whisper

The Silent Whisper
by Maclean Patrick

The heat woke him up. It was 3 in the morning, not a good time to wake up for it will take him close to forever to go back to sleep. In this heat, it was better he stayed awake until dawn. But staying awake was not something he looked forward to.

Sitting up, he looked out the window. The city lights glowed in the horizon. There was still life at this hour, still people going about their business within the graveyard hour.

Midnight did not scare him. But 3am did.

It was the hour the Whispers came out. And as he wiped the sweat from his brow, he heard a whisper.

“Awake. You’re awake.”

He cup his hands over his ears. Closed his eyes and asked the heavens to spare him from the pain of entertaining this unwelcome visitor.

“No point hiding. You can hear me,” she said, her breath; cold against the back of his ear. “Do you have an answer for me?”

He bent over, head touching his knees as he sat; rocking slowly on his mattress.

“Go away,” he managed a weak protest.

“What is your answer?”

“Go away.”

“Answer me..”

“Go away.”

“You PROMISED me an answer tonight,” her chilly lips hovering closely over his fore-head.

She was bolder now. Invading what little private space he had left in his personal bubble. More demanding, more forceful in her request and she was not one to take “No” for an answer. Yet, tonight he had, had enough.

“No,” he finally spoke up.

“What?”

“No,” he lowered his trembling hands, his eyes still close. “My answer is no.”

“Don’t you want release?”

“Yes, but not like this.”

“Just take my offer.”

He shook his head from side to side as his rocking continued. He could feel her, just in front of him, watching him move, waiting for his reply.

“Yes, I am hurting. And everyday is another day of heart-ache and misery. And I’m barely coping from breath to breath. But dum spiro, spero. I’m still breathing, I’m still hoping. If you take me, it will not be like this. I’ll let destiny take me, fate set the clock. Sorry, but you just have to wait.”

There was a silent whisper. A word spoken, yet unheard. He felt her breath as she mouthed a phrase that went pass him and then she was no more. Gone into the night and he knew he was alone, again, in the room.

He cried.

It was 3am, the darkest time of the night and the silent form was returning empty-handed. Her colleagues had more luck. Returning with the Damned. Returning with those whom had replied, “Yes.” They lifted the wretched souls like ragged dolls, jeering at her for she had nothing in hand. She snarled back at them, “I’ll have him. It’s just a matter of time. He’ll break and I’ll bring him back with me. Death always wins in the end.”

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6 Responses to Short Story : The Silent Whisper

  1. Laurie says:

    Oh, wow. This has a few elements to it; depression seems to almost bleed from the lines, and the ending is concise and cold, almost perfect for her… I like.

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  3. Hi, can I quote some of the content found in this entry if I provide a link back to your site?

  4. Nurul Ain Haji Radzali says:

    hello Mr. Patrick. I’m Nurul Ain a TESL student from UPM. I’m currently working on my assignment about malaysian writer on subject Malaysian Literature in English. i was wondering if i could made a copy of your short stories so that i could give it to my letcurer. of course with your permission. i read some of your short stories and of course your novel The Bicycle. unfortunately, i haven’t have the opportunity to read Jasmines on the 4th Floor cause i couldn’t find the book. but don’t worry, i’ll manage to find it somehow. the only thing i can say after reading your work is that you aspire to write as well as i can especially since i’m kind of weak in grammar and composition. with your permission, i would really hope you can allow me to make the copy of your work.
    thank you.

    P.S: please forgive me for my bad command of english.

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