Voice in the Shadow

Voice in the Shadow

Faces, both familial and yet still of strangers, fill the room. Their voices boom with joy and laughter. Each joke and turn of phrase is a bitter pill to swallow. The night has been filled with game and merriment, but my heart still aches under the weight of it all. Once again my head begins to spin. The walls are closing in, and the voices grow to a painful roar. I must escape.

Swiftly, through the dining room. I must not pause for even a moment of hesitation. If I am caught in route they are sure to demand an explanation, or worse draw me back into the sea of chaos. The suffocation grows with each step towards the old wooden door. Its grains and hues were once a welcome sight, but now stand as the bars to my cell. I numbly fumble for the brass handle, trying my best to ignore any calls from those behind. The latch releases and the rush of cool night air is far more refreshing than I remember.

Breathe, I need to breathe. But not yet. Even as the voices fade their eyes are still watching. They can see me through the windows. They must wonder what I am doing. They are always watching, trying to catch me before I crack. Not for my own sake, never for me. Only for themselves and their fraudulent entourage. Ahead is the barn, there I can hide from their eyes, and maybe find peace.

Quiet, it surrounds me. The old timber walls and lofty frames above create a cathedral of creaking solitude. Night air blankets my anxiety with its cold embrace, as the starlight saps the pressure from around my heart. Shadows above me spring to life as a voice calls out “Hoo!”

An Invader, in the form of a snowy barn owl, has taken up residence here in my sacred temple. Its fluffy down feathers, and wide prying eyes offer a sense of wonder to anyone who stops by. It seems to welcome me into its home with a gentle cooing. And for a moment I am distracted from my crumbling sense of reality. But only for a moment. As the wild cries of a night bird are no match for the crushing reality I must face.

Lies, like webs, entangle the chorus of voices inside the house. No one is safe from their sticky ichor. There is nowhere to hide from the false. It lies behind every smile and in every word, both spoken and silent. In this family you lie not just for yourself, but for everyone around you. Pretending is the price of peace, and they bade you comply. Not as an entry fee, but as your birthright thrust upon you. Where do the lies end and I begin?

“Hoo!” again the owl cries out. Seemingly unwilling to let me forget its presence. The voice of the night adds to the chaos already swirling through my head. I might break at any moment. Instead I dismiss the owl and return to my brooding. Sometimes I have to step away, if only to find myself in the mangled heap of lies my life has become.

Faces, so many I wear each day, not to hide my secrets. But they are masks I wear to protect the secrets of my family. So many faces and yet none of them my own. I have spent a lifetime playing the part of the good child. And yet I have never played the part of myself. No opportunity to falter. Elsewise, they will fall upon you like hyenas upon their prey. For the first one to break becomes the scapegoat. An easy target to mark as the source of chaos and unrest. Better to play the part of a sheep, than to be called the wolf by a pack of wolves in sheep's clothing.

“Hoo!” Again the owl calls to me. But this time, it is not a welcome, or a warning. It is instead a question. One I have asked myself time and again. I cannot hide in this barn forever, nor can I hide the painful secrets of my family. I will risk the title of pariah. Exile is more appealing than this prison of lies. I care not if my voice is heard, or if the truth is revealed to the world. My sacrifice is not to punish the wicked, but to free myself. Let them say what they will. It is of no concern to me.

“Hoo!” again the barn owl cries. And in reply I shout, “It is I and no one else!”