Writer's Voices

I woke up in the middle of the night to voices echoing around me. I couldn’t tell where they were coming from; it almost sounded like they were sinking into my head. I grabbed a bat and inspected every inch of the house, but there was no one there. Yet the voices never ceased. Was I hearing things? I never had this issue before, so I didn’t know what to do. Then I heard them calling out my name.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“We’re your creations.”

I figured that all the overtime I was pulling at work while also working on my novel was beginning to wear me down. My mom’s words from the previous day just echoed in my head: “You’ll have to choose between that newspaper company and your books, Shanelle. You can’t run on two to three hours of sleep forever.”

Perhaps she was right.

“No, you’re not just hearing things. We are truly your creations. You wrote us to life!”

Maybe I needed to see a therapist.

The voices kept saying that I was the goddess that created their worlds and lives, and that they were my humble devotees. I put on my headphones to drown them out, but they kept piercing through even the heaviest music I played. There was no escaping them.

I don’t know what time I fell asleep, but I woke up late the next morning and decided to call in sick. I spoke to my mom about what was happening and she visited me right away. Since I never had any mental health issues growing up, this was a surprise. Mom scheduled an appointment for me with her friend Emma, who was a therapist. We visited her the next day.

Emma asked me whether she could communicate with the voices through me. I was reluctant at first, but I agreed. She asked me what they wanted; the voices told me they just wished to speak with me and ask for my blessings. They said they were grateful to me for creating them, and they asked that I bless them with what they seek. Emma asked me their names, and their answers surprised me. Octavia, Anastasia, Emmanuel, Selena, Mark… They were all characters that I had created.

Soon, there was also discord between the voices, with some of them accusing the others of having ill intentions and selfish goals. Their arguments melded into a maelstrom in my mind—I couldn’t bear the noise anymore. Emma soon ended our session and prescribed some medicine for me. In the meantime, she told me to let the voices praise me as their creator since there was no harm in it; and if they were to argue again, she urged me to remind them that they were in their goddess’ presence and shouldn’t be acting that way. I was confused by the approach, but I took her advice. She told us to come back anytime if I ever felt overwhelmed again.

I started taking the medicine that night, but after three weeks had passed, I still saw no change. Perhaps I was being hasty, or perhaps the voices weren’t just something I was imagining. What if they were truly my characters communicating with me? I didn’t know what to believe anymore.

The voices continued to pray to me, and some even pleaded with me not to kill them off; a few of them somehow knew it was coming. I reassured them that I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t really keep my word to each and every one of them. Goddess or not, I was a writer after all.