The day started like many others. A switch clicked, and inside, self-consciousness lit up. Little Voice had returned to the waking world.
Fully awake, though with eyes still closed, a fragile possibility of further descent into sleep where dreams were just at the edges, Little Voice lay still listening.
Almost immediately, the voices began to chatter. One, obviously, wanted the day to begin already. It had a gazillion things to do and began listing chores THAT MUST BE DONE. Now!
While another, a more seductive and softer voice, reassured Little Voice that she should snooze for a while longer, there was still time and no rush at all. This voice stroked her ego's self-beliefs as if they were somehow important.
Little Voice observed them. She listened to their dictates, and caresses, smiling to herself. She imagined little characters for each of the voices.
The drill sergeant, with list in hand, barking orders inside her head, all in a vain attempt to control how her day should go.
The seductress, robed in lilac silks flowing to the ground, languished on a chaise, whispering and beguiling, while also laughing prettily at the sergeant as his face reddened.
She observed them but didn't become involved.
With no real concern or thought, Little Voice got up. She had yet to decide what she would do with this day. She knew that instead of listening to the inner voices chattering away inside her head, she could allow the day to unfold simply by following her bliss. She would step inside innocence. In this place, Little Voice knew she would create something special.
It was something that she had grown practised in, even though the voices didn't let up in their intent to guide her back to the mundane path of her previous existence.
There had been a time when she had believed the voices. She’d become mired in their stories and listened to their judgements. But that was before she knew how to live differently.
That was before she had stepped inside a new world of possibility. In this new place, she no longer had to accept the status quo; the rules for her were now forever broken. The world was full of colour and magic. A kaleidoscope of opportunities swished and revealed themselves to her as she chose to live a life of make-believe.
Today, she thought, would be exquisite, and she smiled knowingly. There was a little voice attached to this thought, it appeared to her translucent and ethereal like a wisp of understanding, and she prepared herself quickly for the magic that was to become.
Stepping outside her home, she watched the busyness of people rushing about their day. Mrs Upton was at her window opposite and Little Voice waved to her. She loved that old girl and the stories she had tucked away in her trunk of memories.
It might be nice to visit her again but not right now. Little Voice didn’t feel the inner tug that she had grown accustomed to. She stood still, the sun finding her face kissed down on her and for a beautiful moment Little Voice just breathed in. In the next moment, she felt the tug.
A blue silver Persian cat, quite a rare sight for Little Voice, was precariously sitting between two parked cars a few doors up from where Little Voice was standing. The tug became more urgent as she saw her new neighbour exit his house and head for one of the cars.
Without thinking, Little Voice propelled herself forward and made her way towards both the cat and her neighbour. She took in a sequence of possibilities, through a flash of images that barraged her mind, and before she had fully comprehended what she was doing she had swept the cat up into her arms.
She sneezed, and her neighbour, who had obviously been intent on getting in his car and beginning his work-a-day life, looked at her and his cat.
Awkwardness gleefully skipped around Little Voice, and her neighbour, laughing merrily at the situation. It ran closer towards Little Voice, and sticking out its imagined tongue, caused Little Voice to sneeze again. As if this was a signal to her neighbour, he asked, “Are you allergic?”
Little Voice blushed a little, and replied, “To awkwardness, yes; to cats, I don’t think so.” She looked down at the Persian cat in her arms and found it looking up at her knowingly. “I just saw him sitting between these two cars and then you were about to get into one of them, and…” she stopped. Awkwardness was now rolling on the floor laughing at her. “Well, I just didn’t want him to get hurt.” She finished.
Her neighbour smiled. “Well, I guess I should thank you, then, for both me and Mr. Pickles.” He stepped closer and gently took Mr. Pickles from Little Voice’s arms. “He’s not meant to be outside yet. We only moved into the neighbourhood last week and it’s quite likely he would have got himself into a scrape had you not been around. I’m Michael.” And he, awkwardly, tried to stretch out his hand while still holding Mr. Pickles. “I guess he must have got out when I went back for my umbrella.” He mused out loud. “He’s a bit of a Houdini.”
Little Voice smiled at the gesture and tentatively shook the proffered hand. “I’m Peggy,” she offered. “I live at No. 5. Welcome to the neighbourhood.” And with that Little Voice felt the most exhilarating tug unlike any she had ever felt before.
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