I hear them

“I hear them,” my 7-year-old daughter Natasha said to me as I was tucking her in one night.

“Hear who?” I asked.

“The voices. Ghosts and souls. They talk to me.”

I thought she was joking, but I still asked, “What do they tell you?”

“They warn me. They tell me what to do. They help me.” My daughter talks to an imaginary friend a lot, so I was used to her telling me what Carmen, the imaginary friend, says, but this was a little weird.

“What do they help you with?”

“I’ve been feeling really angry for awhile, and I almost hit Amy yesterday.” Amy is Natasha’s best friend. “But right before I did, a voice said to me, ‘Not now. Soon. Wait for it.”

I was getting a little bit worried, but I just played it cool. “That’s nice, sweetie. Now go to sleep.”

“Night, mommy,” she sighed. But right then, a deep voice rang through the room. “Sleep while you can, little one.”

“See?” my daughter said, yawning, then closed her eyes.

The strange thing was that I knew that voice, but I forgot how.

The End

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