I can hear her. I can hear her screaming. I can hear her crying. I can hear her begging. She needs me, I think. Or maybe she needs somebody else. But she needs somebody, I know that. I can hear her. She needs help.
I can hear her, but I don’t know where she is. Her voice is too faint, too far away. It’s like a feather on the wind – how do I follow something I can’t find? I think I should start at the beginning…where did I first hear her?
It was yesterday, I heard her yesterday. Yesterday was Tuesday, it was very cold. I could see my breath, it was like smoke. No, it was smoke, I was smoking. What was I smoking? Was it still cold? I can’t remember. I heard her yesterday.
Yesterday, it was cold. I was wearing a coat, it was white, I was warm. So was it cold? So cold I couldn’t move, but I was warm. I can’t remember. She was there yesterday. Not there, but I could hear her. She must have been close. She’s following me, I can still hear her. Her voice is broken glass.
I think I know my own voice.
I don't really know exactly what's going on here, specifically, because I was trying not to have a plot, so I wouldn't let myself think ahead. I was kind of going for a stream-of-consciousness thing here, where the thoughts are random and I don't know where they are going or what's going to happen.
ReplyDeleteVery nicely done. Rather than completely random, the piece seems to build through repetition and simple linkages between ideas, which start with someone other than the narrator and ultimately seem to return to the narrator herself, implying the voice is hers. I really like the uncertainty of the piece.
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