It’s not like I couldn’t hear them, they had always been there rattling around in various volumes from hushed whispers to raging torrents. It was that they suddenly chose not to be heard. Their quiet choir of voices became softer and softer every day, and yet, in hushed tones I could still hear them, still make out a word here or there. I can’t be sure but I’m quiet convinced it’s my name I seem to be catching. I hadn’t much cared for them at first, hushing them at every moment, but over the years I had grown quite fond of them, attached to them as one would a school mate who had grown up over many years with you.

I do know they can hear my thoughts when I think I’m words and complete sentences, so over the years it’s become second nature of me to instead think in images. These voices have no eyes to see so how could they possibly know what I’m visualizing in the vast darkness of my mind. Words echo through that abyss and they reach out and grab them as a child would catch butterflies with a net. No, images only. It must be so if I’m to have any privacy.

The images lately however have been troubling. It seems the voices’ absence has me thinking of ways to find them again, ranging from the mundane such as scream out to them in thought, all the way up to carving them out of my skull with a knife. Yes, that does sound the most promising. Not only will I find them, I will give them a way to make their exit, freeing them out into the world.

No! Good god, that’s insane. Surely I will die if I do that. But then again, these images I’m conjuring show me so peaceful, relaxed, even happy once I’ve set the voices free. It would be so easy. I could make a small hole with an ice pick, a simple little jab in my temple would suffice.

Oh but a quart of whiskey and a hack saw, yes that would truly be lovely. Give them a wide birth to saunter out of, leaving me truly alone with my thoughts. That is it. I must do it.

As I gathered to necessities for my little oppression I could almost hear them again, the voices. They whisper in excitement.

It was only too late when I had began to saw into the side of my cranium, half drink , that I could swear I heard one of the voices say “HES DOING IT! We’ll be free shortly, my brethren. “