Just Sing (Short Fiction Story)

A young woman’s fate is tested when she loses her voice. She finds purpose again, but is it what she’d hoped for?

Notes: The short story you're about to read, won first place in ghostwriting.

Chapter One

The Night that Changed Everything

I was on stage, performing the biggest song of my life. An original song that I’d worked hard on. The producer had heard me singing, cancelled all the other songs and wanted me to perform mine instead. I refused but he wasn’t going to let it go, so I accepted to do it.

I sang my heart out that night and hit every one of my notes right. I could remember seeing my producer, discussing future deals with his colleagues. He looked at me on stage, smiling ear to ear. It was a perfect night. I’d sacrificed a lot to get to where I am.

Just as I was halfway through my song, I heard a gunshot from the alley outside. Everyone started to panic and run through the emergency exit. It was an underground bar, and there’d be criminals, waiting to rob people off their valuables.

I’d almost escaped with my producer, when I saw this little girl run towards the direction of the shooting. I had to go get her. I couldn’t just leave her to die. My producer yelled, his voice fading into the sound of people running and the restaurant in a ruckus. She’d ran outside and I followed, screaming for her not to.

As I ran after her, I saw her lifeless body, laying on the ground in the alley, a bullet through her innocent, little head. I thought I could save her, that I could make it in time to rescue her, but I couldn’t.

Before I could understand what had happened, I was shot. I was shot in a very inconvenient manner. How convenient that the robber had wanted to shoot me in the head and missed, so he shot me in the throat out of anger instead. I saw blood gush out of my neck. My hands refused to leave my neck, trying to suppress the blood spillage and I felt life drain out of my body.

I’d lost the one thing that was meant to bring me joy and fulfillment the same night I was to sign my contract. I saw that life flash before my eyes, while giving up. I let down my hands and my blood spilt down my dress, and unto the ground.

Chapter Two

After the Silence

I woke up in the hospital, where I was told if I wanted to talk again, I should rest my voice box for nearly a year. I saw the disdained look on my producer’s face. I couldn’t explain myself and he didn’t dare ask what happened, seeing me in my condition. He just sat beside me, moping, searching my face for an answer he wasn’t going to hear. I cried. I cried because even though I watched the life we both wanted, slowly die and was washed down the drain, I was most upset because I couldn’t save that child.

I heard a woman cry outside my ward and when she and her husband had passed by, I figured they were her parents. I know her mother. She was a music teacher in the school where I taught.

I wanted to meet her then to talk music, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t brave enough with my voice and I endured 15 years of self-pity and labor, teaching children of all manners. It paid my rent and put food on my table but left my soul feeling crushed and empty inside. I knew if I wanted to feel a little bit of self-satisfaction, I should chase after what I wanted.

What I wanted was to be a musician. Now being put in a hospital as a result of my forever gone voice, I felt this hole in my heart. My voice wasn’t the only thing that I’d lost that day but my soul too. If I couldn’t sing, then I was now a burden to my producer and a worthless piece of trash that he’d never look back to negotiate a deal with anymore.

After I was discharged from the hospital six months later, I could talk. Not fully. Not enough to be engaged in a conversation with. I could only say a word after another. I couldn’t speak louder than a certain advised range. So soft that it could barely pass for a whisper.

I felt miserable the next few months. “How can I answer the phone now?”, I thought. I spent about a week, then two, and soon a month engaging with a vocal coach the doctor referred me to, and to my surprise I could converse for a longer time than before.

I thought about why God allowed me lose my voice, while he was aware that I was trying to save that little girl. Why did that robber miss his shot and went for my throat instead. Why did he miss his shot? He should have just killed me, instead of putting me through this pain.

How and why did he think shooting my throat was the best option? Was that God’s plan for me? If so, why? I stopped praying, I didn’t need to. I was upset with God, and he’d best understand that.

Chapter Three

What Remained of My Voice

I was laid off from teaching until I was fully healed. I couldn’t sought for a new job with my present condition, no one would hire me. I can’t be involved in any job that’d require me to talk to an audience, it wasn’t good for me just yet.

I spent a month looking for a job, but I couldn’t get one because everywhere I went people pitied me and didn’t want me going through any discomfort or the other, so I stopped looking and thought about starting one myself. I just knew I should but hadn’t thought of what business it’d be.

The strangest thing happened to me, while I slept. I felt a gentle breeze on my face, and a hand slowly caressing my throat. It was as if fingers lighter than feathers themselves, had rested upon my throat. And for the first time since my accident, I could talk again. I could talk like before. I even tried shouting, and I could do that without feeling sharp pains in my throat. I quickly called my producer, Jerry, and explained it all to him.

“But can you sing?” Jerry asked, curious.

“I don’t know, I haven’t tried.” I said, my voice shaky, exhaling deep as my heart began pounding.

“Well…?”

I tried to sing and nothing came out. I couldn’t sing. I’d lost my voice, and my producer got a front row seat to the embarrassment. He knew I felt like crying. He knew I didn’t take the feeling of regaining my voice, only to not be able to sing, very well. I hung up when he tried comforting me. I fell to my knees, crying, asking God to take away my voice completely, because this wasn’t the life he promised. I cried out until my voice was sore and now, cracked like I’d caught a cold. All the people I’d usually engage with, were shocked to hear me talk again, and not whisper.

I went back to my life as a teacher. If I can’t sing, I might as well not die trying. Two weeks later, I got to know that Mrs. Klein, the school’s music teacher, had resigned from teaching at the school and had now become a stay-at-home mom. I couldn’t help but feel her daughter’s death was my fault. And now, because she’s no more, her mother had been reduced to what she is now.

Chapter Four

The Life Waiting For Me

I thought about what’d happen if I decided to teach music. I felt this tingly feeling inside, and noticed the goosebumps on my arms, just by thinking about it. That was it. That was my breakthrough. Though, not with my voice this time, but other's. I could become the music teacher, and hearing that come out of my own mouth was all the hope I needed to hear.

I left my desk, took my bag and went to the principal. I managed to convince her to allow me teach the children music, after a few back-and-forth about whether my voice had recovered fully or not. I explained that I wouldn’t be the one singing, just guiding them through melodies, and rhythm. I could play the keyboard and the guitar, so I figured I might as well get the job doing what I love, even if I won’t actually be doing it.

I found a gift, singing, and even though that’s gone and I might not ever get it back again, that’s okay. I found an even better one—teaching it. This was God’s plan for me. He didn’t abandon me as I’d thought, and I know he was the one who restored my voice. But only this time, it wasn’t mine. It’d belonged to someone else. A girl who might need it more than I ever did. Wherever she is, I hope she will make the best of her years with it. It’s her turn now.

Cate.

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