Freewrite. Voices of the night.
This is my entry to the #freewrite 5-minute exercise hosted by @mariannewest. See details here.

Voices of the night.

Source

The patient from bed # 6 had become their weather forecaster. They had learned to read his reactions and associate them with atmospheric changes. María was a veteran nurse and throughout her career she had worked in almost every department. Her time in the psychiatric wing had been a pleasant one thus far, considering, the creepy stories of violent and nasty patients.

-Rain is coming.
-How do you know? The new nurse asked.
-Look at his eyes, his awry smile.
-How did he become this?
-Nobody knows. They say he answered a midnight call. One of those malign voices that sound like anyone in the house. Sometimes, they sound like loved ones that are gone, but who we miss so much that we forget they are no longer with us, and so we answer desperately, What is it? I’m coming! It is like giving permission, opening a door not knowing who is getting in.

-It started to rain.
-You see?
A pair of perplexed eyes and a frozen awry smile, that was mistakenly read as fulfilling, hid an internal struggle that was tearing the patient of bed 6 apart. He could not wake up, let loose, or scream, and his inanimate body remained imprisoned between the absurd outer speculations and the inner mockery of the voices that day and night now rejoiced in their triumph.

They were there to stay and spread their dominions, like a wild river after a strong rain, just like the one these two nurses were contemplating ecstatically from the window of the 9th floor. Every one of them caressed a cold hand of a prisoner that cursed having answered to that urging voice that called him that night.

Source

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