《Will You Listen to their Voices?》


 Chapter 1: The Bridge

    The wind howled across the desolate bridge, carrying with it the bitter chill of midwinter. Daniel Cross gripped the cold metal railing with both hands, his knuckles pale and rigid. Below him, the river churned in the darkness, its surface fractured by the faint glow of streetlights. The water seemed endless, a perfect void waiting to swallow him whole.


    He glanced down, imagining the weightlessness of falling..the brief, sharp sting of the wind against his face, the silence that would follow. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath. It would be quick, he told himself. No more sleepless nights. No more echoes of a voice he¡¯d never hear again.


    Emily.


    Her name was a wound that refused to heal. He could still picture her as she was on the last morning they¡¯d spoken, barefoot in the kitchen, pouring milk into her cereal, her messy brown hair framing a face too serious for a sixteen-year-old. She had been angry with him that day. He couldn¡¯t remember why, only that he¡¯d left without saying goodbye.


    I¡¯m sorry, he thought, his grip tightening on the railing. But apologies didn¡¯t matter anymore. Not when she was gone.


    The wind gusted harder, pulling at his coat, as if daring him to let go. He leaned forward slightly, the rush of fear and anticipation coursing through him. And then, through the roar of the river below, he heard it¡­a voice.


    ¡°Dad!¡±


    Daniel froze. The word wasn¡¯t sharp or accusing, but soft, almost pleading. He spun around, half-expecting to see someone standing behind him, but the bridge was empty. The sound of tires on a distant highway was the only noise beyond the wind.


    He shut his eyes again. You¡¯re hearing things, he thought. But then it came again, closer this time, tugging at the edges of his mind like an unspoken memory.


    ¡°Dad¡­ don¡¯t.¡±


    The voice was hers. He would have known it anywhere.


    ¡°Emily?¡± he whispered, the word catching in his throat.


    Silence. He turned in place, searching the shadows, but there was no one. The world seemed impossibly still, save for the sound of his own frantic breathing.


    ¡°Emily!¡± he shouted, his voice breaking, echoing against the steel and concrete. His cry was swallowed by the wind, and for a moment, he thought he had imagined it all....just another cruel trick of grief. But then, faint and trembling, the voice returned.


    ¡°Please, Dad. Stay.¡±


    A sob clawed its way up his chest. He dropped to his knees on the icy pavement, his breath coming in ragged gasps.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered into the night. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Emily. I didn¡¯t protect you. I¡ª¡± His words collapsed into silence, and he pressed his forehead against the cold railing, tears streaming down his face.


    He stayed like that for what felt like hours, the cold gnawing at his skin, until the faint hum of tires pulled him back to reality. A pair of headlights approached from the far end of the bridge, their beams cutting through the darkness.


    Daniel stumbled to his feet as a car slowed to a stop beside him. The window rolled down, and a middle-aged man leaned out, concern etched into his features.


    ¡°Hey, buddy. You alright?¡±


    Daniel hesitated, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. He looked back at the river, the temptation still lingering, but something held him back.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said finally, his voice hoarse. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    The man didn¡¯t seem convinced, but he nodded. ¡°Alright. Take care of yourself.¡±


    The car pulled away, leaving Daniel alone again on the bridge. He stared at the water below, but the stillness of it no longer beckoned him. Instead, Emily¡¯s voice lingered in his mind, soft and insistent.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Stay.¡±


    As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Daniel turned and walked away from the edge. Whatever this was, grief, madness, or something else entirely...he wasn¡¯t ready to leave just yet.


    The air felt different now. Cold, but not suffocating. The weight on his chest had lifted just enough to let him breathe, though the ache in his heart remained....a dull throb that seemed to pulse with each step he took. He didn¡¯t know where he was going, only that he couldn¡¯t stay where he was, not with the echoes of Emily¡¯s voice still vibrating in his skull.


    The sun had barely risen, casting long, eerie shadows over the empty streets as Daniel walked in a daze. The cars that had once seemed like an invasion of his solitude now seemed distant, their noise muted in his head. The world around him seemed... quieter than it should have been.


    He could still hear her. Faintly. Like a whisper on the wind, pulling him, guiding him. Stay, she had said. But what did it mean? Was she really speaking to him, or was it just his mind..clutching at straws, desperate for a connection he couldn''t have?


    As he walked, the memory of Emily¡¯s final morning played out in flashes. He could see her in the kitchen, frowning at something in her phone. They had argued then. About what, he couldn¡¯t remember. It didn¡¯t matter anymore. I should have known, he thought, as a pang of guilt surged through him. I should have stayed. I should have tried harder.


    His fingers were numb from the cold, but the rest of him felt detached...like he wasn¡¯t entirely in his own body. The world seemed to move around him without his permission, as though he were watching from the outside. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the grief or something else, but it didn¡¯t feel like he was really alive anymore.


    That thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and his pace faltered. He stopped in the middle of the empty street, his breath fogging in the early morning air. Am I dead? he wondered. The idea seemed absurd, but it was one that had been growing in his mind ever since he woke up in the hospital. It had felt like he was caught in a dream..like he had slipped out of his life and into some kind of limbo.


    He shook his head, trying to clear it. The thought was too much to handle. He didn¡¯t want to think about it. I¡¯m still here, he told himself, but it didn¡¯t sound convincing even to his own ears.


    Suddenly, he heard something again...a faint whisper. This time, it wasn¡¯t just a voice. It was a presence.


    Turn around, it seemed to say.


    Daniel froze. He glanced over his shoulder, and there, standing in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, was an old man.


    At first, Daniel thought his mind was playing tricks on him. The man was hunched over, leaning heavily on a cane, his ragged clothes drenched from the mist that had started to settle in the air. His face was weathered, his eyes clouded by age, but his gaze was fixed on Daniel with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.


    The man didn¡¯t speak immediately, but there was something in his eyes that stirred a distant memory. Daniel tried to place it, but the harder he thought, the less sense it made. The old man¡¯s face was both familiar and foreign, like an image from a half-forgotten dream.


    ¡°Sir, Are you lost?¡± Daniel asked, his voice hesitant.


    The man didn¡¯t respond right away. He simply nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the question but not quite answering it. Then, in a voice that crackled with the weight of many years, he said, ¡°It¡¯s not your time yet.¡±


    The words sent a chill down Daniel¡¯s spine. He took a step back instinctively, suddenly wary of the stranger.


    ¡°W-What?¡± Daniel stammered. His heart raced as his thoughts swirled in confusion. Was this some kind of hallucination? Or was it something more?


    The man¡¯s eyes softened, a strange understanding flickering in his gaze. ¡°You can¡¯t end it yet. Not until you hear their stories.¡±


    The words hit Daniel like a punch to the gut. His mind reeled, trying to comprehend the meaning. The man¡¯s presence seemed to seep into him, a suffocating pressure building in his chest. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. But his legs wouldn¡¯t move. His body was rooted to the spot as if some invisible force held him in place.


    ¡°Stories?¡± Daniel repeated, his voice trembling.


    The old man nodded. ¡°The dead speak, you know. They always have. But few can hear them. And fewer still listen.¡± He paused, taking a shuffling step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°But you can, Daniel Cross. You¡¯re one of the few.¡±


    Daniel¡¯s breath caught in his throat. How did the man know his name? The word ¡°dead¡± echoed in his mind.


    ¡°No¡­¡± Daniel whispered, shaking his head, his heart pounding. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m not... dead.¡±


    The man smiled faintly, a sad, knowing smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°No, not yet. But you will be soon enough. You¡¯ve seen them, haven¡¯t you? The ones who linger. The ones who have unfinished business.¡±


    Daniel¡¯s stomach twisted. He didn¡¯t want to hear this. He didn¡¯t want to believe it. But the voice...the voice of Emily...was still in his head, clearer now, more insistent.


    Please, Dad. Listen.


    He closed his eyes, his hands shaking as the image of Emily flashed before him again, her face, her eyes, so real, so full of life.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± he finally managed, his voice hoarse.


    The old man tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question carefully. ¡°I¡¯m not the one who wants something, boy. They do.¡± He gestured vaguely, as if indicating the very air around them. ¡°The dead. They want their stories told.¡±


    Daniel¡¯s head was spinning now. This didn¡¯t make any sense. Was he losing his mind? Had his grief driven him to the edge of sanity?


    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t understand,¡± he muttered. ¡°What stories? Who are you? What do you want from me?¡±


    The man¡¯s face softened again, as if he were genuinely trying to help Daniel understand, but his eyes were distant, clouded with something Daniel couldn¡¯t place. ¡°I want nothing, boy. Only to warn you. The dead... they speak in whispers. And once you hear them, there¡¯s no going back.¡±


    Daniel swallowed hard. The hairs on his neck stood on end, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he was gripped by fear...real, palpable fear. Not of the bridge, or the river, but of what he might be becoming.


    He opened his mouth to speak, but the old man was already shuffling away, vanishing into the mist, his voice lingering like a fading dream.


    ¡°They tell the best tales, Daniel. They always do.¡±


    Daniel stood there for a long moment, alone, his mind reeling. The city around him felt even quieter now, as if the world had paused, waiting for him to make a decision.


    Finally, he turned and walked back down the street, each step heavy with the weight of what he¡¯d just heard. He didn¡¯t know what to believe, but something deep inside him knew this wasn¡¯t the end.


    It was just the beginning.


    (To Be Continued)