“Voices Heard not Seen”
Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION; the events, character depicted are fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I am being watched.
It is a fact I’ve come to understand since moving here, a fact I mix into my breakfast and scarf down. It is the same reason I do not look out to the forest through my window; reflective eyes caught in the frame as I prepare to sleep. I’ve also come to understand that most things are fine being ignored. Most things are content to watch. The eyes will watch but not draw my attention, they simply exist alongside me. But it’s a slow building dread dredged into my kidneys and expelled on a daily basis.
I haven’t told my roommate, Amy. Since her bedroom faces the street, she’s safe to look.
This house is nice, one-floor with a basement, small but cozy. Amy and I spent months looking for anything and all other apartments were smaller than this. So I can handle not looking at night.
Lately, I’ve seen people walk into the forest during the day. Women, men, sometimes children, and they never come back out where I can see them, if they come out at all. My roommate and I have a tally, it is nearly twenty, running for a couple weeks. We like to have a small bonfire at the end of a hard week (most weeks are hard) and she likes to observe the trees as day turns to night, but I watch our fence line.
It is the only thing keeping those eyes at night out. A couple hundred pieces of semi-decayed wood and rusted nails, I often wonder why it has held so long. I’ve leaned against it and it tips with my weight; what is stopping the eyes from carving a way through this until it pressed against the glass.
But like I said, most things are fine with being ignored.
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Eight months in, we host a gathering for my brother’s wedding reception. Two families squeezed into a long table, share food, and the air is pleasantly warm and the eyes haven’t been at my window in days. I am content. The backyard is decorated with fake flower spheres and string lights everywhere. It is cozy and warm and a good way to end the night. My parents coo at the newly-wed couple as they smile and take the praise. We are waiting outside for my dad to say the food is ready because it’s too warm in the house.
I’m laughing at some silly joke when I caught two lights just a few inches lower than the string lights. I squint and become aware of the direction I’m looking.
The woods edged along our driveway almost swallowing my mom’s SUV and Charles’ car cutting off all means of escape. The shrubs refused to allow more than a narrow alley to the garage, now the low sun peaked through the leaves and greeted the grass of the yard with much needed attention.
I force my eyes closed. Just ignore it.
My dog barked and I welcome the distraction. I pull on the rope in his mouth and my roommate joins in when I finally yank it free. We toss it back and forth while Rufus happily jumped between us.
My mom warned us to keep the gate closed so Rufus didn’t run off, the sun would set soon and we would never find him again.
The first month living here I saw someone walk into the woods, I thought there was a trail, so I ventured in; the moment my feet touched beyond the strip of barrier trees, I felt trapped. I couldn’t turn around and walk back out. Back home, the forest felt adventurous and welcoming to my brave young soul. I would traverse the trails until no part was undiscovered, then I used my hands and crawled up non-wandered hills; the woods proved my strength, no matter how many scraps or bruises I took I walked back into them.
These woods felt misplaced, as though the city tried to cut them down but they grew back all twisted and knarred, unknown, wrong. My bedroom and the kitchen faced the backyard and I tried not to look, I never knew why I kept my eyes down.
I avoided the forest and turned to follow the smell of pasta and tomatoes.
The food plentiful enough to nearly leave the two families in languor. Casey’s family stayed to tidy up but then left with my parents to their hotels. Amy and I watched as the cars left taking the only source of light with them in the creeping darkness of a moonless night. The string lights cast a soft orange glow to the fence.
Rufus barked at the treeline, I fought with myself to look. I settled on looking at Amy, who didn’t share my concerns. She squinted as I calmed Rufus.
“There’s a woman,” she whispered.
Curiosity snapped my head to look. The trees blend together and my eyes don’t adjust immediately to the darkness, when I make out a form just past the dirt road of the alleyway.
She didn’t look like the woman I once saw, though she looked familiar. She stood just outside the treeline so I couldn’t make out her features. [details of an outfit, it is bloodied, dirty, torn? Skin-colour] “We shouldn’t be here.” I pulled Amy’s arm. Rufus’ hackles raise and a low constant growl rumbles out of him.
We turned to leave, Rufus growled and didn’t move--if he wanted to stay out that was fine—when the woman made a noise. [I had to physically pull Rufus away, trying to protect us, though we could already see her]
She started to sing.
Her song had no words, just trilling of her voice holding a sweet melody. Her voice held notes for two or three beats longer before hitting a different note.
Amy shuddered and my hands shook. We locked the door behind us but we could still faintly hear her melody.
We looked at each other and laughed.
“That was weird,” Amy said on her way to her bedroom.
“Yeah, kept your window locked tonight,” I joked.
She waved and we bid each other goodnight. Rufus at my feet as I drifted off to sleep with the long-held notes worming through my thoughts.
This is a snippet from a short story I am working on! I created the first scene today and the scene after the scene break (```) is taken from my word document. It’s taken towards the end.
