Spirit Voices (standard:Ghost stories, 1992 words)
Author: Sushi	Added: Jan 08 2010	Views/Reads: 3310/2025	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a story about the link between generations that surpasses death. The strength and the necessity of that bond in the caribbean woman's life.

Marie looked towards the window trying to discern where the sounds were
coming from. She knew it was not outside but there some instinct 
causing her to believe in her own false reality. The lies of her 
imagination were easier, perhaps, to accept than the truth. For three 
months she heard the voices at night. Just as she was about to close 
her eyes in her dark room, she felt the coolness of the sheets against 
her bare skin and the warmth of the pillow as she made her final turn. 
Then one by one they would start. First it was always a low moan, 
whispery so she wasn't sure that she was actually hearing anything at 
all, then they would trail into the room through the lattice work of 
the balcony and in through the window. Fear paralyzed her growing worse 
when she realized that she would not be able to run if they did become 
threatening, they had not seemed to want to hurt her though and with 
time, because they came every night, she began to listen. They spoke to 
each other it would seem, sounding like the Babel banshees, she could 
not understand a thing they were saying but knew that it was important 
that she understand. What she knew was that these women were trying to 
talk to her. Tonight the noise was louder, she heard them just outside 
drawing nearer slowly but coming. The balcony to her room over looked 
the garden below and during the day she would sit out there enjoying 
the breeze coming up the hill to kiss her cheeks. There was a glass 
door separating her from the cold night air at night, though she 
preferred this time. The glass shone and the room was flooded with 
light at different times as moons peeped in at her sleeping figure. She 
would undress in front of the moon allowing the light to bathe her 
skin, to soak into her hair causing the brown strands to catch it and 
shimmer it back around the room. She liked to look at herself in the 
mirror while she did this. Her reflection looked like a different 
person and kept her company her eyes knowing, and Marie swore that if 
she looked hard enough she could spot slight differences. Tonight was a 
full moon and she could feel the magic of some sort in the air around 
her as she undressed earlier. Usually she would don a white night gown 
before settling into her bed, tonight she wanted that full moon 
lightness to wash into her all night. She wanted to grow in it while 
she slept. And now her eyes closing slowly to that light, the voices 
drawing nearer she made one last effort to see. She was not sure what 
there was to see but the goose bumps on her skin told her there was 
going to be something. Her eyes rolled towards the glass doors and for 
a moment a shadow stood at the door. Marie stared at the figure waiting 
for movement, wondering if she really was seeing it and trying to 
decide if it were something alive or dead. The darkness lurked at the 
doors it's back turned to Marie, seeming not to even notice her 
trembling figure crunched up on the bed. It began to dance. At first it 
was a simple side to side sweeping but it added a swirl here and a 
twirl there. Marie stared still not knowing what to make of this 
strange happening. She could still hear the voices. There was calm 
about them, the babbling was a whisper now floating around the room 
drawing Marie to it. Marie closed her eyes for a second trying to 
follow the whispery conversations through the lattice work. Still a 
strange language; always a strange language. It was like something she 
knew, something she heard all the time, but could not listen to it, 
could not understand. She opened her eyes and found the glass doors to 
find the figure staring at her. The eyes were dead. There was no light 
there, no joy. It was a woman she could see, but her lips were sewn 
together, she had Marie's nose, and hair. Marie recognized her but like 
the strange language, she did not know who she was or what she wanted. 
The skirts the figure wore swayed in the breeze and flapped off to the 
left, showing Marie that she wore tattered shoes like she had been 
walking a long distance. There was a tear running down her cheek, her 
mouth quivered like she was trying to say something. She raised a dark 
hand to the glass, it bore cuts and bruises, the palm had corns at the 
base of the fingers that squashed down as he pressed both palms against 
the glass doors. Marie was afraid now but she found herself slowly 
taking her sheets away from her body. She sat in the bed looking at 
this figure, her own eyes filling with tears. Marie recognized its face 
as her own, it was not a relative of some sort as she had thought but 
herself. She was looking at herself in the face and could not 
understand. She walked towards the glass doors. With every step she 
made the figure peeled off a piece of clothing. They were both 
completely naked. Marie was shocked to see the skin of this reflection 
caked with dirt. Her nails were torn off her hands, her stomach sagged 
like an empty sack and blood ran down her legs. Marie gasped and placed 
her hand on her own stomach, she looked down at it quickly not wanting 
to take her eyes off this woman looking back at her. She felt a pang of 
pain at the bottom of her back. She grabbed at the pain, her eyes 


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