The Voices

The Voice Beyond the Bindings

As the Saturday morning grew closer to its end, I watched a mass of fools funnel together, merging as one, waiting to be tricked by a single voice. As uncharacteristic as this was for me, I was also suckered in but had no desire to hear out this Voice. Dragging me by my limp, lifeless arm, a lifelong friend has decided that this was to be “awe-inspiring” and “what I needed”. My sighs were waved aside by the excited chatter of this overbearing optimist as we continued our climb towards the top of the stone pillars of the convention center. My last glimpse of the dark gray sky was the last sight of the hope that I held onto for years.

Schooling the mindless fish downstream were the event coordinators urging us onwards. Others paid no mind to the concept of being a part of some large-scale pyramid scheme or some fake hypnosis treatment session. My hand, still glued to this “friend”, was being guided into the main hall of the convention center. In the center of it all, was the Voice; an “inspirational” speaker that snaked the herd of cows to be ushered into this awfully nice five-star resort banquet hall.

My friend suggested a table near the back and I silently praised his intuition. I could escape when nobody was paying attention to avoid being the center of attention. Nothing worse than being a small weak animal in the middle of a pack of hyenas.

As the variety pack of wildlife finished walking into the hall, the door was shut and the lights dimmed. The king of this jungle made their appearance known shouting a mighty quote thought to excite the animal kingdom. Shaking my head at this unprovoked ambition, I slumped deeper into my chair preparing to snooze in front of the great king, the Voice.

Within a short time of words fumbling through my ears, I was pricked by my friend to pay attention. The Voice had promised a small giveaway of a replica of their first ever notebook that changed their “outlook on life forever”. Shenanigans and a sad way to incentivize the masses into coming but it suckered my friend and me alongside him. I waited in silence as the directions were provided that each chair had a number attached. I stood for a moment to learn what number I had. Seventeen, nothing special.

“Congratulations number seventeen! Please come up to the stage to receive your reward!” said the Voice over the speaker.

As my number was called, an odd jolt rushed within me. Urges of panic; beyond that of the faces of the nameless society, I strive to stray away from. This crushing excitement; like when I succeed when another has failed. These... emotions, such a disgusting word, surfaced as I found my body being guided towards the center of the Voice’s presence.

The Voice spoke clearly with the little black notebook in his hand, “To all those who wish to learn of the world, start close. Learn to express yourself so that you may be understood. Learn to write away the pains in the cryptic messages that you can understand. Learn to share the desires of the world’s foundation as a way for us all to appreciate.” Every sentence, the Voice tapped the notebook onto my chest as if trying to break in. Each just as soft as the last but my soul was being tormented, unable to unleash its own voice, suppressed for too long.

For one last time, the Voice would address the world, with the intention of breaking me down. “I ask you to trust in us. To take the first step on your own time and to appreciate the gift that the people around you provide. When you are ready, this is what you do.” Turning to me, the Voice brandished the beautiful bound black notebook and slowly slipped off the slim strap binding it in place. “Open the notebook and go to the twentieth page, there you will see the evidence of our effort and a small token of our belief that we have in you.” The Voice returned the notebook’s strap to its default state and delivered it within my hands and ushered me off.

I sat at the back of the room staring at all of the people in the room. Their gazes followed the Voice as if they expected the words they heard to turn into gold. I ran my fingers along the edges of the notebook, enveloping it with my full attention before I was stirred awake by an uproar of clapping. The Voice had sung his praises and the people clamored with joy and excitement. I chuckled at how silly it was to feel such a way but couldn’t resist a smile as I stared at the stage upon which I had shared with the Voice.

I followed the crowd of people towards the entrance, listening to their gleeful recollection of the Voice and his words even brandishing the little black notebook for any to see when their eyes would catch mine. My friend followed behind me with a small smirk upon his face which I only noticed as we were able to breath in fresh air once again.

As I parted ways with my friend, I pulled out the small black notebook. Running my fingertips across the texture of the cover, I took a moment to reflect on the words by the Voice. What kind of “token of our belief” could possibly be found inside this small notebook? Why on the twentieth page? That is too far in to have a written message as it would ruin any notes that I would have begun writing. My curiosity in this silly notion was overwhelming.

I pulled away the strap that bound the notebook in its closed state, slowly tilting the cover back. Tabbing through each page, counting them one by one another surge of emotion washed over me. Excitement, joy and anticipation. Feelings that had been so foreign to me but seemed to be welcomed with this new power and opportunity that lay on the twentieth page. A small note folded around a cashiers check, reading the amount of twenty thousand dollars. The note said: “Be proud of who you are and what you can become. May this help you find the light that you had lost.” No signature. No name. Yet, I read the words with the Voice playing like a record in my head.

A droplet of water splashes onto the note from above, as I look straight up to see a perfectly clear summer day. A blue sky that I hadn’t noticed in years as I dropped to my knees, overwhelmed by the blessing I had been provided. Never abandoned or forgotten, merely lead astray. The tears continued to flow as if a spring shower on the note.

“Thank you… I will express myself. I will write away the pains of this life. I will share my appreciation of the world.”