“Kill him.”

“No,” I whispered through gritted teeth.  “Shut up.  You’re not real.”

“Burn him.  Burn him alive and you’ll be rewarded beyond imagining.  Everything you desire, you’ll have.  All you have to do is sacrifice your son.  You must sacrifice him.”

I didn’t respond.  I just kept walking.  I was almost at the pharmacy.  My fist clenched tightly around the prescription in my pocket.  I couldn’t believe I had been so careless as to forget it.  And now here I was, burdened with my little guest yet again.

“He’s a wicked child,” It continued.  “He stays out late, he talks back to you, he deserves death.  This whole city does.  Everyone here should be exterminated like the vermin they ae.  There aren’t fifty good people in the entire city.  This whole place should be wiped from the earth.”

The pharmacy came into view.  I quickened my pace.  The bell above the door jingled as I walked in.  “Good morning!  What can I do for you today?” the pharmacist asked me.

I pressed the crumpled up prescription onto the counter.  My face was hot.  I could feel the sweat dewing upon my forehead.  I took a deep breath.  “I’d like to refill my prescription, please.”

“Already?  Time sure does fly.  It’ll just be a moment,” he assured me.

“Leave this wicked place,” It instructed me.  “Go, this isn’t your home.  You don’t belong here.  Leave, leave, leave!  It’s going to be destroyed for its wickedness.  Get out.  Save your own life.  No one else matters.”

“How’s Sarah?”

“She’s good,” I replied.  “She’s enjoying her retirement.  She’s started baby-sitting kids for the neighbors while they’re at work.  She, uh, she likes having children around, I think.”

“Good for her, it’s important to keep busy.”

“Kill your son.  Kill your son.  Kill your son,” It chanted as I waited.

The pharmacist returned with a small brown, paper bag.  “Here’s your clozapine.  Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied.  I paid and hurried outside.

The moment I was outside the door I took the bottle out of the bag.  My hands scrabbled at the cover, trying to get it off, trembling.  “Come on,” I hissed.

“Don’t you dare take that,” It threatened.  “Don’t do it.  Listen to me.”

The cap came off and fell to the ground.  I shook out a chlorine green pill into my hand and quickly swallowed it.  I sighed deeply, and crouched down to pick up the pill’s cover.

As I walked home, the voice faded.  “I’ll be back, Abraham.  You can’t get rid of me.  You need to kill your son.  Do it.  Do it for me!  I’ll give you anything you want.  Kill him.  Kill him.  Kill him.  Do it, Abraham…”

And then It was gone again.  I smiled.

Thanks for reading!  If you enjoyed it, you can find more of my stories here!

This entry was posted in Stories and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Vox

  1. smudgynotes says:

    Nice entry! I never really thought about the possibility that Abraham could have been mentally ill and the voices telling him to sacrifice his child was not God. Good job.


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