“Write, write, and write you don’t have a choice.”
That would be my Voice. Yes, my voice. Not my speaking voice, my new voice. One night my parents left without a trace. Well there was one trace, a knocked over vase. Which, I think, means they didn’t want to leave. Now I don’t know what I am supposed to be writing about but I’m just going to keep writing.
“Write about what you know, not what to show.”
There it is again. My Voice is a soft voice. I have named my voice “Stimme” which means “voice” in German. I’m actually am German. Oh no, my foster mother is calling me for dinner I must go now. Goodbye. Oh did I mention that my name is Bee?
“Get out, get outside.”
Bee walked outside, careful to follow Stimme’s voice. “Go behind that tree and crouch.” She did as she was told. She quickly found a spot behind the large oak tree. She waited, waited for Stimme. “Oh come on Stimme!” Bee said irritated as she heard her foster mother motioning for her to come inside. There was a blast. A blast so hard that it could rupture someone’s ear drums in a millisecond. “OH MY GOD, BEE RUN, AHHHHHH!” her foster mother bellowed. With the piercing screech of her words, Bee sprinted as fast as she could into the woods. “NO BEE NOT THAT WAY!” screamed the foster parent. “Yes, listen to her, do not go that way, you will be harmed,” echoed Stimme. Bee turned around and sprinted back to her foster mom. When she got back to her foster mom she silently observed the pile of ash that used to be her house…
From there, Bee was in the hospital. “Wake up, wake up listen to them,” said Stimme. Bee hit her head with her fist, hard. “GET OUT OF MY HEAD I DON’T WANT YOU ANYMORE,” screamed Bee. “As you can see she is experiencing hallucinations, which is a symptom of her tumor,” explained the doctor to the social worker accompanying Bee. “So she will need surgery,” asked the social worker? “This is bad, this is bad,” echoed Stimme.
Bee was starting to wake up. She felt groggy. “What happened?” “Hey sunshine, you had a tumor in your noggin. And it was making you think that you had someone in your head, talking to you. The surgeon got it all so, no more voices,” said the social worker. “Really,” exclaimed Bee! She was relieved, this tumor had answered many of her questions. Her parents must have really left and her voice,
Stimme, was just a hallucination! Bee was relived. As she was slowly drifting back to sleep, finally to have her head to herself, she heard a voice “Nice try, I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere…”