The Listener

The voices started eight years ago. Whispers at the edge of sleep, urging me toward something I didn't understand. Now I know what they wanted me to find.

I look at the old, care-worn cover of the leather book and feel something akin to nostalgia. I'm not sure why my mother abandoned me when I was just a child. The only memories I had of her were when she took me daily to the Library. While Dad worked two jobs to make ends meet, she spent hours researching in the roped-off section, poring over ancient books and occult material. I distinctly remember one time in particular, us staying in the Library from the morning it opened to closing time. She was knee deep in a book entitled "Mysterious Cults and Orders." She was deeply engrossed in whatever lay in those frayed, ancient pages, her bottle cap glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, her eyes narrowed in concentration, and her hair barely contained in a braid being twisted by her long, nimble fingers. When the Librarian made her hourly rounds and arrived at that small section, she reminded my mother, "We're closing in ten minutes."

My mother sighed in annoyance and, without a word, scooped up me and my play dolls and left those tall, musty shelves and deathly silent rooms. Only to walk into a somewhat chaotic home of an overworked Dad and a small apartment whose walls seemed barely hanging on by a thread. I could never understand why my mother never seemed to try to help my father, but instead seemed to only search for a way out in her stack of dusty leather books. The one I hold now in my hands is one of those books.

I hesitate opening it. I haven't seen her since I was six, and I can't help but think that this will only open up a can of worms that I'll never be able to walk back from. The voices, though, whisper to me, telling me to quit wasting time. That I will find the answers I seek within these worn pages. The questions, though, still plague me. Like, why would she send me this book? Where has she been all these years, and why now? Of all the moments I could've had a mother, how about when puberty hit, and the voices began talking to me? Or when I had my first boyfriend, heck, my first breakup? How about when I graduated and went to college? No, you choose now, now when I have a life, a career, and a future husband. I feel the rage at the sight of this book, but then I can't help but soften too. My mother had her demons, sure, don't we all? But maybe this book will explain why she did what she did.

I take a deep breath, my stomach already churning, but still, I should read it.

The opening page simply says, "To my daughter: your heart may change the world, but your spirit will change the world." That quote seems entirely too confident, as though she knows something I'm not yet privy to. The next page has a small note in her beautiful, wavy script written to me.

My dear beloved daughter,

The years have drifted by like a storm wind pushing a ship adrift on the open sea. I never meant to hurt you or your father, but the voices… well, the voices wouldn't allow my sedentary lifestyle. When I grew to the age of thirteen, I discovered that I was a possessor of deep mysterious power known simply as the "Listener". I would hear whispers of answers unknown to those around me; they would challenge me to end someone, save someone, or sacrifice to the entity known as "The Mad One". They informed me of our family's connection to the entity and that they would reveal more information the further I allowed them entry. I tried to ignore it, indeed, I tried to live a normal life, and for a time, I did. I graduated, then fell in love with your father, and all along, the power inside me felt ready to burst. It wasn't long after we married that we found out that I was pregnant. The joy that filled both our hearts was unending. I never knew that my pregnancy, and consequently your birth, would bring about a sudden change. One that would leave me searching for clear answers. After you were born, the voices brought news that a group called the "Order of the Hollow Veil" would find me, take me, and finally, I would become one of them. I searched the annals of the library to find any information about the group, and yet, nothing was to be found. The voices multiplied beyond what I could handle, and many nights I was left breathless and fearful of their suggestions. My husband and I began to lose connection with each other, and our rift widened into a chasm I couldn't cross. Finally, this came to a head when I received a letter. The letter came with a seal, a black mark, and on the letter it said simply "We are coming". It wasn't long after that they did, in fact, come. I tell you this so that you may know, Mara, you too are a descendant of "The Mad One", and you must begin to prepare… they know, my dear, and soon, they will come. By now, you may have already heard them—the voices. If not yet, you will soon. Remember, Mara…remember, your spirit will change the world, and your heart? Well, it will only stand in your way… it will break you, before your spirit takes control.

Maggie

P.S. Study this book, memorize these words. I've written down everything I know and have seen since I left… and the voices? They aren't what they seem…

My mind races at the context and breadth of the words from her note. She had experienced the very same things I had. I'm apprehensive about reading the rest of this book, but I feel that the worst thing I can do is not be prepared.

The days have gone by in a blur. The moment I turned the first page, I found myself engrossed in a narrative that was at times rambling and information-dense, yet I understood my mother and our power even more. The voices grew still as if waiting for me to come to some form of acceptance or confidence that, moving forward, I would allow them further entry.

As those days ticked down, I can recall at different moments my fiancé trying to call me, but the urgency I felt at my mother's words within this book kept me, in a way, spellbound to what my future held. Already, I can feel the words twisting and manipulating my mind to disconnect from my heart, from my love for my fiancé, my dad, and my life. Each chapter brings me to the realization that my time is short, that the "Order of the Hollow Veil" knows of my existence. This group is not only dangerous but seemingly omniscient, and after reading my mother's chapter on preparing for their eventual appearance, I find myself allowing the voices to gain more and more ground in my mind. From her words, I have learned that not only are the voices not evil, but they are, in fact, the voices of our ancestors. The order is mistaken in their assumptions and theories. The entity is evil, and our family has been fighting its influence for countless generations. After a week of studying, I learn that the Order tracks Listeners through their connection to The Mad One—but distance and isolation can sever that thread. There is one way to remain hidden. I call Greg and lie, telling him I need an extended vacation. He's worried, confused, but I can't explain—not yet. I choose a random location on a map, and in less than a day, I'm on a plane headed there.

It's been almost two months since I began living in a small hotel in El Chaltén. The mountains surrounding this tiny village have left me feeling at peace with my decision. I spend my time in solitude, hiking mountains and exploring the serenity and wonder of this place. The voices calmly remind me of the various dangers and events that take place outside of this tiny place, but otherwise, I'm alone.

Today I took a deep hike into the mountain range. I was gone for quite a while, lost in the grandeur of it all. The village's one road is busier than normal when I pull into it. Hikers are coming in from trips themselves. My guide, a local who asks no questions, drops me off, and I walk quickly to my room. As I walk up the stairs to the second story, the voices shout across my mind. I stumble in surprise and try to muddle through to hear the message they seek to relay. They yell one simple word, "DANGER!" I shake my head in confusion. There isn't any danger that I can tell; I'm literally in the middle of nowhere. I take the last few steps slowly. As I reach the walkway, I look down it and, seeing nothing near or at my door, I walk swiftly to it. I try not to bring attention to it, but the apprehension I feel is unbearable. My ancestors are freaking out. I walk up to the door, and the faded numbers on the door remind me how far I am from home. As I reach to turn the knob, I almost pass out from the power of a voice I do not recognize. It is far more ancient than the voices of my ancestors. It leaves me breathless as I find nestled within the door and the doorjamb is a faded white envelope. I tremble as I grab it. On the envelope is a black mark and the words on a faded and worn paper that says "We are coming." I open the door the rest of the way and see that everything is untouched, except that sitting on the bed is a figure. My heart stops at the sight. The woman wears a black dress, her hair is a wild mess, and on the bridge of her nose is a set of bottlecap glasses.

"Mom?" My voice trembles.

She nods, a sad smile on her face. "Hello, my beautiful daughter." She opens her arms towards me, expecting, I guess, that I would hug her on sight. I'm not even sure what to think at the moment. I stare at her for what must be a minute, speechless, in shock.

"How is this possible? Where did you come from?" I ask her, finally finding my voice.

"That doesn't matter at the moment, my daughter, they are coming. It is too late to save you. They will force you to join, and for the sake of your life, you must accept. If you do not… well, you must accept." She tells me urgently.

"Mother, I did everything you suggested. How could they have found me? Heck, how did you find me?"

"The voices, honey, they always know. I tried to get far from you and your father in order to keep you safe. I thought that staying away would keep you free from the voices. But they always find us, it seems. Our ancestors will never stop claiming us."

"Why must we run? Who is the 'Mad One,' mother, and this order… You never said, what do they do to us?" My voice rises with frustration and fear... and to be honest, I'm just tired of feeling this way.

"The 'Mad One' is an entity that is very nearly time itself. He seeks out the listeners to manipulate and bend them to his will. He breaks their minds, consuming their memories and their ancestors… and so we fight, ever gaining and losing ground in the battle over our minds and the voices of our ancestors."

I shiver uncontrollably. How can I defeat or run from something that is eternal? "And the Order? Who are they?" I ask.

"They serve the 'Mad One'. They believe that in retrieving the Listeners into their order, they will receive a blessing and even a higher place amongst 'The Mad One's' hierarchy. They have survived for countless generations, adding to their number by keeping the goals alive to each generation after them."

"And why should I accept their summons if they are so evil?"

"Because you need to see how they operate, learn their weaknesses. I'll be watching, and when you're ready, we'll strike back. I'll wait for you when you are ready to do this. Simply relay the message to our ancestors. If you keep running, then you will always be running."

"So my life is over? When I find you again I'll start with a clean slate? Like a witness protection program? How do we fight back? I don't want to run for the rest of my life. I want to live my life!" My voice echoes against the decade-old peeling paint.

"I hope to change that. Together, we can figure this thing out. I truly believe we can win, we and our ancestors… but first you must accept their summons."

I take a deep breath. This is... a lot... more than I feel prepared for. I think briefly of telling her of the other voice, the ancient one. Then decide that it would be better to keep that one to myself for now.

My mother watches me, her eyes carrying tears. I can feel her sadness, her deep well of emotions, on seeing me and knowing that my life will join hers in never being the same.

"Okay." I mean, how could I not… She needs me.

"Mara, how is your father?" She asks, barely hiding the brokenness in her voice.

"Dad... Dad is doing well, I guess. He never remarried. He still works constantly, burying his past in a mountain of paperwork and tasks, forever running from what he cannot come to terms with."

"I love him for that. For me, he was always steady as a rock. He took the crazy, the weird, and even the insane from me and accepted me for who I am. I never stopped loving him… or you, Mara." Her arms still lie open, her body shaking softly from the grief of being gone for so long.

I walk over and embrace her. "I know, Mom… I love you too… and there's no way he ever stopped loving you."

We stay embraced for what seems like an hour until finally, she lets go.

"Mara, I'll follow you and the Order, and when it's safe—run, run like you never have before. We will disappear and finish the work and the fight our ancestors started."

She leaves. My room feels empty again, so I decide to take a shower. I think it may help clear my head. The voices have grown quiet since the interaction with Mom. I believe they approve.

After taking my shower and getting changed, I decide I must break the news to my fiancé and my father. My mother's phrase to me comes to mind… "Remember, your spirit will change the world, and your heart? Well, it will only stand in your way… it will break you, before your spirit takes control." To say that Greg was heartbroken is an understatement. He didn't argue, didn't beg—just said "I understand" in a voice so hollow I barely recognized it. It hurt me more than I could say. My heart is broken. Dad's reaction was somewhat resigned, as though he fully expected me to someday do this. "You're just like her," he said quietly. "I couldn't save her either." So after that sorrowful conversation, I chose to lie down. I'm shocked that sleep finds me in the state my mind is in, but sleep does.

A knock—three sharp raps—scares me out of my deep sleep. My heart begins racing, the voices shout in my mind, warning me, begging me to run… but there's no running this time. The clock reads three o'clock in the morning. It's been hours since my mom left. I slide out of bed and walk, no, slink, to the door and look through the tiny peephole at eye level on the worn door. I look through it and see, well… nothing? I open the door and almost jump out of my skin. Three people, two men and a woman, stand at my door. They smile eerily from beneath black hoods. They say in unison, "The Order summons you."

We make it to a black vehicle, the night sky leaving a feeling of impending doom on my shoulders. I look one last time up at my room… my freedom, short as it was, and see a figure, feminine in appearance, looking down at me. I climb into the black vehicle. The door closes behind me with a sound like a tomb sealing shut. The voices have gone silent. My spirit, it seems, has finally taken control, and my heart? The last pieces of it fall with the final shreds of humanity. I feel a power beyond the voices—something ancient, something that has been waiting. Perhaps running was never in the plan.

That thought brings a smile to my face.