Tell Me Again

“Where did you say they are?”

“I told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“They’re in the walls. And other places.”

“What other places?”

“Everywhere.”

“What do you mean, everywhere?”

“You know. Wherever. The ceiling. The floor. The electricity.”

“They’re in the electricity?”

“Yes. Don’t ask me how. But they are there. I can hear them in the wires.”

“What do they sound like?”

“I don’t know. Wanting, maybe.”

“Do they talk?”

“Not exactly. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try. We can’t help you unless you try.”

“I already told the other doctor. He wrote it down.”

“Please. I’d consider it a favor.”

“The night they took me, the last time. I was asleep and I heard them talking. Except it wasn’t language. It was more like thoughts that weren’t mine. I felt bubbly, like I was carbonated. And then I floated through the roof and into their ship. It was like a bubble made of light. That’s all I remember.”

“You said the last time. Were there other times?”

“I think so. When I was little. I remember somebody chasing me through a metal hallway. I must have got away.”

“Interesting.”

“I was scared.”

“Are you scared now?”

“What do you think?”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction