Muse and Misfortune

IV

Marshall went out looking for the voices again. By this time he felt so tired that every part of him was aching, and he wanted to cry in exhaustion.

At least the voices had stopped screaming. They were back to being white noise.

Marshall stopped in the middle of the hall, feeling a sudden chill. It made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

"Marshall."

Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Please, no.

"Marshall!" cried the voices.

Marshall wanted to scream in frustration. Not that it would make a difference. He wouldn't be able to hear himself anyway.

"Maaarshhhhaaal!"

Eliza came up running up behind him. He turned to see her concerned, confused expression. "They've never done that before," she said.

Wonderful. It was really just wonderful.

"Then again, they've never been heard by anyone else before," Eliza continued. She looked at Marshall sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

He just nodded. He couldn't do anything else. If he opened his mouth, all that would come out would be a strangled noise. He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself.

If Eliza could do it, so could he.

"I'll keep looking," he muttered, not even sure that Eliza would be able to hear him. She did, nodding and returning to her closet to continue searching.

His name echoed throughout the house again. It sounded like thunder, and it hit him like lightning. It hurt.

"Marshall!"

The voices sounded a little taunting. Like they were mocking him. And they weren't coming from behind him, or from his left or his right.

They were coming from somewhere ahead of him.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of determination, motivation. He started forward. Say it again, he dared.

"Marshall!"

He continued, following the sound.

He followed the noise into the kitchen, and there it was, on the kitchen counter. A messy stack of papers, a pen lying across the top. The same stack from the living room, that Eliza had moved into the kitchen.

Marshall stepped towards the papers. How could it be that papers were making so much noise? The same papers that before hadn't seemed to be making any sound at all?

His name echoed through the house again, and he didn't hesitate in grabbing the papers—and the pen, because who knew whether it was screaming too—and ran back to Eliza's room.

Eliza was still sitting in front of the closet, a few more stacks of notebooks surrounding her. But she wasn't sorting through them. She had her head cocked to one side, and she had a puzzled expression on her face.

As Marshall stepped in the room, she turned towards him, frowning a little.

"I found the--" he began cheerfully, lifting the stack of papers.

"I can't hear them," she said.

Marshall stopped and stared at her. "What?"

"The voices," she said, getting to her feet. "They're...gone. I can't hear any of them. It's...It's just..." She broke into a wide smile, and tears began to fill her eyes. "It's a miracle. I can't even remember the last time I heard my voice so clearly..."