Voiceless

Peter was a grumpy young man who lived with his sister, Mira. He didn’t find much to feel cheerful about. Every morning felt like a chore and today was no different. It hadn’t always been this way, but ever since their parents were killed in a car crash a couple of years ago. Before that their home used to be happy and alive. He woke up, stretched, and frowned at the clock. He was getting late. He dressed quickly and went to the kitchen.

He made toast and eggs and thought he ate them while watching TV. Mira must have left about an hour ago; she always left early for her chef job. He never understood why she loved it so much, especially with those long hours.

Something felt slightly off today. He couldn’t really taste the food. That must be because he was coming down with a cold and it must be because he had gotten drenched waiting at the red light yesterday. Funnily, he couldn’t remember returning home after that.

The TV remote didn’t work either, even when he banged it lightly against his hand.

“The remote must be totally dead”, he muttered.

On his way to the station, a man brushed past his left side as if Peter were invisible.

“Hey!” Peter tried to shout, but no sound came.

Laryngitis? How was he going to go to work at a call center without a voice? He quickly typed an email to his boss explaining his condition.

He decided to visit the doctor in person. When he reached the clinic, the reception area was nearly empty, maybe because it was Monday and still early. He walked up to the receptionist, but she didn’t look up. Irritated, he tapped his fingers loudly on the desk, but she didn’t react at all.

What’s wrong with her?

“Hello,” he tried again. Nothing. Not even a whisper.

He had never had laryngitis before. Did people lose their voice completely?

He sat down and decided to wait a while. Moments later, a man entered, and the receptionist immediately looked up with a smile and asked how she could help. Peter just couldn’t understand. He was about to storm out when a newspaper caught his eye.

A headline about an accident.

Beside it, a picture of the red light where he had been standing in the rain.

Accident? He hadn’t noticed anything. It must have been after he left.

But… why couldn’t he remember what happened? How had he got home?

He walked out and dialed his sister. She answered after a couple of rings, but when he tried to speak, nothing came out, not a whisper, not a gasp. Why? He should at least have been able to make some sound.

At the other end he heard Mira saying softly,

“I don’t know why but his phone keeps calling mine… and when I see his name flash it’s like he’s still here.”

Who was she talking about?

It couldn’t be him. He was right here.

Had something happened to one of her friends? Who? Why hadn’t she told him anything?

When did it happen? Last night?

Why did he have no recollection after the rain?

He needed answers. He would go meet Mira at her restaurant.

As he walked, he heard sirens in the distance, and suddenly an electric jolt shot through his whole body. A bright flash. Breathlessness. Sirens.

Then everything was calm again.

He shook his head. What was happening to him?

He passed the very corner where he had been stuck in the rain yesterday. The police had put up barricades. It must be because of the accident.

Then he saw his pen lying near the pavement.He bent down to pick it up, but his grip kept slipping through it. His hand simply wouldn’t close around it.

Again, a flash.

Again, the jolt.

Again, the sirens.

He stood up quickly, trembling. Why couldn’t he pick up his pen? Why was he getting these flashes? He needed Mira immediately.

When he reached the restaurant, it was closed. Why? And where was Mira? He couldn’t forget what she had said on the phone. Who was she talking about? He didn’t feel very well and just wanted to sit and cry. He would wait for her at home.

But then he noticed her bike at the back.

She was here.

He walked around to the rear entrance. The back door was open. He stepped inside quietly.

Mira was crying in the kitchen. The tap was running and her tears flowed like rivers as she stared out the window completely lost in her world.

Her shoulders shaking, her face buried in her hands.

He froze.

He was about to go to her when his eyes caught something on a nearby table, another newspaper, with a much more detailed article about the accident.

He read it.

His chest tightened so painfully he could barely breathe or stand.

He continued into the dining area.

And there… on a table… was his photo.

Surrounded by a candle and flowers.

Mira’s friends stood around it. One whispered,

“The driver lost control… he didn’t see him in the rain until it was too late.”

“So tragic,” Richard responded. “He was nearly home.”

Peter staggered back.

He yelled, but no sound came.

He ran outside and fell to his knees and howled.

After a long time, he stood up.

He started dragging himself homewards.

Mira was left without family, but she was strong.

She had good friends, especially Richard, her partner.

She would take time to heal, but she would be okay.

And he would always be her guiding star for as long as possible.

It was time for him to retire.

Peter stood in front of their main door and looked at his home. So many memories and dreams, snatched away in a flash. He wished he had appreciated the small things more.

Surprisingly, for the first time, he felt hopeful about the future,

especially for Mira.

He was about to enter when out of nowhere it began to rain, pouring heavily like yesterday.

He stopped.

And walked away with a sad smile.