Hushed voices

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, or maybe it was just a random call.  I cry in the darkness thrown out to the first soul that would answer, and that soul was mine. 

“Hello?”  I said, as these were the days and years before caller ID, and I got a hushed “Hello” in response.  He tried to be a heavy breather, but as I tolerate that not at all, I managed to hold some very lonely conversations with “Hush” (as I called him, he never told me his name)  for many months.  I don’t believe he was a pervert, I don’t believe he had bodies chopped up in his basement, I like to believe that he was just a sorrowful individual whose low self esteem didn’t allow for any real friendships.  Every night for several months, the same call. 

 Then he didn’t call for a few weeks, and when the phone rang at 3am one night I scrambled to answer, picked up the phone and said “Hush? where have you been, I’ve been worried about you”.  He said “I wanted to thank you. I think you are the only person who has ever worried about me”.  I never heard from him again.  I hope he found peace.


8 Responses to “Hushed voices”

  1. Sometimes a cry for help is a quiet whisper.

  2. Fantastic, It leaves a sense of peace when you finish reading it.

  3. Well done. A much different take than mine. lol
    Maybe you have more of a loving side — and I’ve crossed over…


  4. A perfect response to the prompt and a really enjoyable read. Thanks for taking part.

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