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THE VOICE WITHOUT A FACE When you're traversing the desert, things play tricks on you: your ears. Your mind. And, rarely, something... arcane. This is a story about all three of them. I know the desert like the back of my hand. It's my home. When it's time to forage, you wait till dusk, when the carrion birds settle into their rocky nooks. Snakes slither along the sand, heading for shelter as the sun falls. That's the time to catch them. This particular dusk was strangely still, with little wind to be spoken of. I'd left my shelter at my usual time, sliding through the sand softly, using a spear as both an anchor and, when the time came to strike my life-giving prey, a weapon. I'd only been gone a short time when I heard a voice cry out. "Help... please, help me." It was a deep, hoarse voice, and it stopped me mid-stride. I looked around, startled... and saw a circle of stones nearby that I'd never seen before. I blinked to clear my head, but the circle remained. The stones were caked in sand, as if they'd always been there. I couldn't understand how this could be. The voice called out again for help, more urgently, as though it was meant for me. I could hear it clearly, but there was no one in sight. One thing I knew, though, was that the voice was coming from within the stones. I looked at the sun. It was setting quickly. I needed to find food. But how can you resist a call for help -- no matter how strange it might be? I made for the stone circle. "It's so cold," the voice cried out. It sent a chill down my spine. I should've turned around then. I should've run. But curiosity pulled me forward. As soon as I stepped through the stones, everything around me changed. Gone was the desert. Gone was the fast-approaching night. I was inside an elegant chamber. The finest tapestries and rugs adorned gilded walls and floors. Sunlight poured in from a hole, far above. And yet, the air here was as cold as ice. My breath came out in harsh puffs. I was in shock, trying to get my bearings, but nothing was making sense to me. "Hello?" I called out. "Where am I?" I started to cry out for help, but realized the irony of the situation. "Over here," the voice responded. "Hurry." The tapestries on the walls vibrated with the voice's resonance, its power. My teeth rattled with it. I stepped toward an ornate chair in the center. Was it a throne? I did not know. I was vaguely aware that I was trailing sand behind me. "Sit," the voice urged, its hoarseness grating. I had never seen a chair so lovely. My legs were suddenly aching. It would feel good to rest for the briefest of moments while I gathered myself. The instant my weight had been transferred to the seat, intense sunlight flooded the room, filling every corner, banishing every shadow. I threw my arms in front of my eyes to shield them, crying out in surprise. But the voice that traveled through my throat and out my mouth was no longer my own. It was the voice from the stone circle, from the room. "Oh gods," I said, touching my mouth in horror. "My voice --" An unseen force ripped me from the chair, sending me stumbling off-balance. The burst of sunlight was already receding, but bright spots still filled my vision. My foot caught on a rug, and I went sprawling -- -- out into the desert night. My spear lay in the sand. I spun around, searching for the circle of stones. It was there, shimmering under the stars. No -- not shimmering. Sinking. As the sand reclaimed the stones, the last thing I heard from within it was a voice calling out, "Help me..." The voice was my own -- or what *used* to be my voice. "No!" I screamed. My new voice, infernally deep and loud, echoed off the rocky shelters. Sand rained from the ledges. Birds took flight. I stood, my hand clamped across my mouth, shaking. Whose voice was this? A snake slithered past me, unnoticed, as a terrible thought filled my mind: ... and how would I ever get mine back? -Odhran | |