Whisper by Lynette Noni

Whisper by Lynette Noni

Author:Lynette Noni
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pantera Press


It’s been two days since I discovered what I am and began working with Ward to control my Speaking ability, but it’s as if he’s communicating in a foreign language.

I can comprehend what he’s trying to have me do. Everything he’s said about intent makes sense — it’s more the practical side of things where I … lose my way.

After the success with the farmyard animals, my hopes had risen, and I’d wondered if perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to learn control. As if sensing my growing confidence, Ward has since found a way to smash me back down to reality, and today he is particularly brutal.

“You need to do better than this, Jane,” he growls when I ask for a break.

Leaning over with my hands braced on my knees, I look up at him through my hair, trying to catch my breath.

“I’m trying,” I say. I have no idea why the effort of just forming words is so hard on my body. Part of it is from pushing through the added pressure of the Karoel, but still. All I’m doing is talking.

“Not hard enough,” he replies.

I manage to raise myself into a standing position and glare at him. “It would help if you offered more instruction than ‘Just do it, Jane.’”

He returns my glare and snaps, “Just do it, Jane.”

I look around the room for evidence of my multiple failed attempts. The problem is, I have summoned nothing yet. Other than Ward and me, there’s nothing else in the black-walled room. And that’s because Ward has tasked me with summoning objects from my past. Items of significance, items of nostalgia.

“How hard is it for you to create your favorite childhood book?” he asks. “Your favorite pair of shoes, stuffed bear or piece of jewelry? These should all be vivid in your mind — this should be easy, Jane.”

He’s right. And he’s wrong. They are vivid in my mind. But what he’s asking is not at all easy.

I can clearly see my ragged old copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the cover worn by time, the pages nearly torn from the spine that is strained from countless readings with my father.

I can clearly see my ballet slippers, the pink satin in perfect condition because it only took one lesson for me to realize I preferred watching the dancers with my mother than being one of them.

I can clearly see Pink Bear, the stuffed teddy I was given by my father during a hospital stay after a swarm of bluebottles became tangled in my hair while I was swimming at the beach.

I can clearly see the diamond ring my mother always wore, the ring that was still on her finger when —

I suck in a heaving gasp, close my eyes tight and draw air carefully through my lungs.

Ward is right. It’s easy for me to visualize all the things he’s asking me to create. But seeing them in my mind and bringing them to life are two different things.


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