The Call

Daily Post :-
Bad Signal
Someone’s left you a voicemail message, but all you can make out are the last words: “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you months ago. Bye.” Who is it from, and what is this about?

A disturbing day, indeed!
Its 2 AM. Something isn’t right. There’s this sensation, on my neck, like there are thousands of eyes on me. Chthonic eyes. Belonging to dark, deep places.

I rush to the house I live in. It isn’t my home. Nowhere is Home. I enter to hear sounds coming from the phone. Its a message, one I can’t decipher. Muffled voices, eerie. Like something is being hidden. Then, clarity returns.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you months ago. Bye!”

I know this voice. I’ve heard this voice singing me to sleep. Its of that Greek priestess with gray eyes. Gray eyes.

She left me at the orphanage. All I remember is her wrinkled hands holding mine, being wrenched from her arms. The orphanage never found my parents. Maybe that is why I feel I don’t belong anywhere. I try to remember more about her. What could she have wanted to say to me.

There’s this pressure on my head. Gasp! I fall down to my knees. Images flash through my head.

Storm. Shore. Sand, God, so much sand. Coffin. A baby wailing. Gray eyes. Those wrinkled hands.

Now the pain is more intense, spreading throughout me. Now the images flashing are painful. My eyes hurt. I clench them shut, hoping for the images to stop. They don’t.

The same shore. Dark hooded faces. A scroll. Fire. A great beautiful beckoning fire. Carnage. Bodies writhing in pain. Apocalypse.

I open my eyes.

I have a shore to find. I have a mission to complete.


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