Farewell to The Voice

“STAY,” said Katya, storming out of the house. “YOU CANNOT COME WITH ME.”

WHERE ARE YOU GOING? said The Voice, storming out after her—though it was not its usual loud self.

“I DON’T KNOW,” said Katya, walking for the end of her driveway.

THAT’S A BAD IDEA, said The Voice. YOU COULD GET LOST. YOU COULD FALL INTO A HOLE. YOU COULD GET ATTACKED BY A RABID RACCOON. ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN OUT THERE.

Katya stopped. The Voice was right. Anything could happen.

TERRIBLE THINGS, said The Voice.

Terrible was one of The Voice’s favorite words. Katya was very tired of that word. Katya was very tired of The Voice.

On the other hand, The Voice did save her life once or twice.

FIVE TIMES AT LEAST, said The Voice.

“THREE TIMES AT MOST,” said Katya.

YOU’RE WELCOME, said The Voice.

Katya looked at her house behind her. How easy it would be to walk back inside. She looked down the road ahead of her, where who knows what might happen (EXACTLY, said the Voice), then down at her feet to see if they might make the decision for her, but her feet just stood there doing nothing. Ever since they had stopped dancing, Katya’s feet had become much less spontaneous.

At the end of the road was the pond where Katya used to catch salamanders and minnows, before The Voice told her they carried terrible diseases that could make her terribly sick.

TERRIBLY SICK, said The Voice.

Katya thought about all the wonderful times she had passed at the pond, back when she didn’t think twice about dipping her hands into the murky water or flipping over a slimy stone in search of a salamander. Some days the ducks would come by for a visit. Other days the kids who lived across the pond would throw sticks at her, or let their dog loose on her.

EXACTLY! said The Voice. ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN TO YOU AT THAT POND!

And Katya, walking for the pond, adding a skip to get there just a little faster, agreed. “YES. ANYTHING.”