The Voice of Reason, Part of the Paranormal Shorts

by Gil VanWagner

Mama did.

  “Mama, you need to rest now,” she said gently as she stroked the woman who seemed so crushed now.

  “If I had told him not to go with the boys that day, he would not have died in that horrible manner. Oh Mary, how nightmares come true! Why did I not stop Daddy? I remember seeing his frightened face each night and I did not know why,” she cried out, quite bitter now.

  Mary reached for her mother and kissed her, then drew her hair away realizing the stench that the bourbon whisky held in her breath. Life was about living and Mama was not helping to keep the bad memories away.

  “Daddy fought well Mama. Like a true American hero he was. You know that. Try and sleep and I will be back soon,” she had heard herself say and she wanted to leave, to visit the coastal front where she could sit by the sandy beaches and relish the salty fresh air like the way Daddy and her used to. The wide open sea was witness to the many stories Daddy used to tell her and they brought memories to bear, pleasant ones she wanted to remember.

  "I have to go now but I will be back soon Mama."

  “Where are you going? To the cliff again?” her Mama asked, her voice almost a protest.

  “Yes. Today, I can try and enjoy that sunset from the cliff. You get a good view from up there Mama,” she heard herself say. It was a gentle protest.

  The sunset was one of the glorious reasons why her father, a romanticist at heart, had chosen to live by the sea. On the short stints of holidays he sometimes took, Daddy would pen hours and hours of his poetry sometimes alone. His poetry captured the depth and love of the sea and it was amazing to sometimes swirl through his words, imagining and wanting nothing more than to romanticize the sea and its many whispers that fell upon your ears.

  She wondered what her father knew about the sea and the many secrets it held. But try as she might, she could not find that book of poetry in his study room. It never came with the few memorable pieces that the military returned to them when he was gone. It was that book that held some of the best pieces of her father.

  "You must rest Mama," she continued as she gave her mother a last minute hug.

  She had to get out. She could not wait to spend the hour by the cliff where she could enjoy the breathless view of the sun’s orb as it made its way down into another golden realm and where she could enjoy the vastness of the sea as it stretched from Pearl Bay all the way to Montecut Island.

  “Can I come?” her Mama asked suddenly.

  “No Mama, you must rest. Maybe tomorrow we will go by the sea together, I promise. I will be just out for an hour anyway…won’t be long,” she had heard herself tell her mother.

  There was no further protest but a nod, and she could tell her mother would soon take that much needed sleep anyway. She looked tired. One year had aged her in such a terrible way.

  She looked at the time. Gillian would be back soon. Quickly, she grabbed her hat and a bottle of water, donned her jumpers and a pair of sneakers and decided she was quite dressed for the hour she needed to be away. It was a cool breeze that greeted her outside and she walked carefully to the barn securing her old bicycle and peddled through the secluded meadows basked with the tall willows and grassland, down steep winding trail roads that took her to the little boulder where she used to sit with Daddy as they reminisced the beauty of the old sea.

  She remembered the hum Daddy used to sound as they made their way together, sometimes walking and at most times, cycling through the old dirt trail roads that had once taken them to an ancient cave no one quite knew about. Most times, they wound up on the cliff overlooking the sea or found the solitude watching the egrets and the coastal birds foraging across the blue sea where the invite of fishes stood by in abundance. Amidst the break in the waves and the sound of the sheep bleating in a nearby farmer’s land, it was just bliss that would greet them near the coastal shores. Daddy knew just the perfect place where they could enjoy the peace in a sheltered area that offered them the best views and even a spot where the passing wind sometimes captured the forgotten sounds of a cargo train making its path along the rickety old railway lines.

  A smile greeted her when the familiar boulder emerged in sight. It would be the same boulder where she would sit and capture some of the thoughts that ran through her father’s head. The cool west wind blew directly upon her. She looked up feeling a little chill setting upon her then something else slid up her mind. Maybe, she could sit closer to the edge and pen her thoughts in her own little book. She had seen him do that sometimes, take a stab at the most unusual kind of activity that would spark his inner thoughts to pen the most creative.

  She felt a slight shiver. It was the wind she least came prepared for. Maybe, if she had brought the coat along, it would have helped but no matter. She walked her way to the edge of the cliff then carefully settled herself, one leg out while she carefully hoisted herself to pull the other leg forth. When she was sure she had settled carefully, she had both her legs grasping the edge of the cliff as she looked down at the rocky hills below.

  Beyond, she could see two yachts making their solitary voyage on the sea. She knew Gillian would have sounded the alarm but she was going to be brave. Life was a risk. Every game at play was a risk and she would take it like the brave girl her Daddy always thought her to be.

  Then the voice sounded. It was clear and crisp, and Mary looked around wondering who called her name.

  “Mary.”

  It sounded again and she looked around but she could not find anyone who spoke her name. No one was in sight yet the voice was distinct, crystal clear.

  She felt a strange feeling course through her soul, almost like a fear ridden kind of feeling that left one cautious and aware. And she was indeed wary because she could see no one in sight. Someone was playing a prank on her and it wasn’t in the least bit funny. She wasn’t expecting company.

  She looked down at the cliff, feeling uncomfortable now. She was placing herself in a precarious spot and she had to get up and get away. Quickly she shoved her body up but then a break came under her. She could feel the hardness under her strip away, almost flaying itself. The cliff was giving way at the edge. She could see small rubbles rumbling down aimlessly. Far down below, the cranes arched around wading their way through the rugged coastal lines totally impervious of the fear that had come to bear on Mary as she battled the possibility of a loosening cliff below her.

  “Oh dear God, help me!” she cried out, her voice crackling now. If she moved, she knew she could very well hasten the breaks and fall into the ravines and rocky slopes down below. She closed her eyes, feeling afraid. She did not want to die. Not now.

  “Don’t move too fast and don’t turn,” commanded a voice from behind her, “I will pull you from where you are. Stay very still.”

  Mary felt the words sounded behind her but she was quite sure no one had been around when she arrived. Who was it that spoke then?

  “I am scared,” she found herself blurting her words.

  “I know. Just stay calm and I will try and get you. The rocks are breaking and one slip could cost you. So stay calm, you hear?”

  Mary could not turn and she knew. One slip could cost her dearly.

  “Okay.”

  “I am going to yank you from behind very quickly, just don’t resist. Got it?”

  “I gotcha. Quickly, I can feel the rocks breaking,” she said fearfully.

  She felt two strong arms pull her very quickly almost lifting her off the air and then the breaks began, hurtling large stone fragments of the cliff down to the valley below. Another minute and she would have fallen like some rag doll to a ground where rocky spikes awaited their kill.

  She turned to her hero and found herself staring into the bright eyes of a young teenager. He seemed close to fourteen years of age, had the deepest greenish eyes she had ever seen and wore a black baseball cap on his dark brown hair. He smiled, hands in his pockets feeling proud of himself now.

  “You almost did not make it. Did you hear that?�
�� he asked as they heard the smash of the rocks sounding down below.

  Mary smiled, thankful to be alive.

  “If you weren’t here, I wonder what would have happened. Who are you?”

  The young boy held a torn, black book almost tossing it under her nose. There was something familiar about the book although it seemed torn and almost tattered.

  “The voice of reason.”

  She laughed now tickled by his somewhat forthright disposition.

  “The voice of reason?” she laughed repeating his words now, seeking clarity in his somewhat proverbial jest.

  “Yeah, that the nature of our life’s very presence on earth is dictated by reason alone...always. I don’t believe in living life by chance. That was a stupid thing you did, sitting there and flirting with death. Don’t need another fall like that,” he muttered, hardly a smile flitting through his serious face now.

  Mary was quite sure she had to look serious now. She was thankful for her life but she was not compelled to welcome his mindless talk of life in such nitty-gritty bits. He was just a kid. What did he know about reason? Nothing seemed to work so well now for them even with reasons answered. Dad was still six feet under.

  “Who are you?”

  “You mean where do I come from?”

  “Right over there. It is a white dot from here, you can’t miss it. It is the only house painted really white,” he said pointing to the valley