A whisper lingers in the air.
It is hidden within the static and computerized buzz of a technological world.
It is hidden in the symphony of hums and thrums coming from screens and devices.
It is hidden in the beeps and rings and the tap, tap, tapping of long nails on smooth glass.
It is hidden in the vast smog of
noise, noise, noise
buried in the liter of constant sound.
Present and not present.
Like the rays of ultraviolet light unseen by the human eye,
but seen so vividly by the eyes of a bee.
The whisper sits on a spectrum of sound.
Where the white noise touches the silence-
There-
in that small gap between the two
resides a gentle whisper
that only a bee-like class of men can hear.
Unheard by the majority,
unheard by those attached to their sanity,
but still occupying an empty space in the atmosphere.
The Whisper:
a lonely spirit roaming and waiting for a warm conversation
or a hungry poltergeist searching for Its next victim to torment?
It seems that those that hear It only experience the latter.
Because once they hear The Whisper,
they cannot stop hearing It.
Beginning as a faint background noise,
but morphing into a chronic shout.
Those that are cursed enough to just barely hear It
are made dinner for the ravenous little beast
that takes pleasure in feeding off of their vulnerable ears.
The Whisper latches onto Its prey
with sharp, stabbing talons
and refuses to let go.
Maybe It longs for someone to listen,
maybe Itâs tired of being ignored,
or maybe Itâs starving for the addicting high of power.
Power.
Power seems to be the only thing The Whisper truly desires,
because eventually being simply a noise isnât enough
and It begins to try on new identities.
It may claim
âI am the police monitoring your every move through your personal security cameras,â
or
âI am the government watching you through the camera on your laptop screen,â
or
âI am your family hacking into your phone to destroy any remnants of a life you may have left.â
Or it may just get lazy
or greedy
and claim
âI am every eye that watches you and every shadow that follows you.â
Then in that moment
The Whisper transforms into a booming paranoia,
loud and unavoidable.
But still paranoia isnât enough!
The Whisper wants more than to be merely noise or a concept.
It wants to be tangible.
It wants to be held and loved like those pocket-sized devices
the population cherishes so much,
so It migrates from open air
to a small electronic box
and burrows Itself in the delicate wiring
and weaves Itself through complex code.
Soon It is no longer competing with the noise
It is the noise,
It is the vibrating atmosphere,
It is the static and the buzz,
the hums and thrums,
the beeps and rings
and the infernal tap, tap, tapping!
It is the overwhelming pressure compressing your temples,
pounding on the back of your head
and drowning your throbbing ears,
but now It has a blinding screen too!
Soon all that is seen or heard is swallowed by The Whisper
and vomited out as a distorted pile of mush.
No longer reality,
but The Whisperâs twisted dreamland.
Now
The Whisper may boast,
âI am Godâ
âI am the angels.â
Now
With a raspy growl,
The Whisper may declare
âI am the demonsâ
âI am the Devil.â
Now
insanity is the new Christianity
and those faithful followers have become devout attendees at
The Orthodox Church of Crazy.
Now
The Whisper is their only friend,
their only confidant,
their only God,
because The Whisper shipped out all that was real on a sinking boat named Paranoia.
Now
when they are not speaking in tongues
they are type, type, typing in tongues
to an invisible whisper in a small electronic box.
What is cluttered gibberish to the outside world
is sacred ritual to those that worship The Whisper.
Many loved ones may try to save those caught in this seemingly false reality,
but to those that are faithful,
this âsalvationâ is only a defilement of their God.
It is disgracing their religion.
And because the outside world will never hear or see the truth,
those that can hear and will always hear The Whisper
further isolate themselves on an island of their singular reality.
So The Whisper will continue Its reign of terror
until Its following decomposes into solitary skeletons
and their spirits rise as small voices
that will forever contribute to the eternal Whisper.
