A Feeling.

Continuation of “A Start”.

Water.

Shut up.

Water.

I said shut it.

Water. Cold. North.

STOP. I said stop.

One tried to shush the voices plaguing them since 7 minutes already. It has been ages since those had last appeared, and one does not like the implications of that. Especially not now. They’re at work, for god’s sake, they can’t run off to help some random person right now. Not now.

With a sigh, one takes another used glass from a customer and returns behind the counter, fishing out a cloth so they could polish it after rinsing.
The water is cold. Of course it is, it’s the middle of September and the water comes from the ground.
The voices annoy one further as the cold water flows over the fingers of the tired worker, rinsing the glass and washing the grime from the skin.

Cold. Cold. Cold. Water. Help them. Help.

Dear lord, the tunes are panicking aren’t they? The worker sighs in annoyance, this isn’t usual. It’s… unsettling. They’ve never-

They’ll die. Help. They’ll be gone. Erased. Forgotten. Don’t let us forget. Not them. Not now.

”They”’ll die?! Who?!

One is panicking now. Helping someone could be annoying yes, something you don’t have to do all the time. But the tunes and hums don’t lie. They never do. And that means this is serious, very serious, what if-…

[REDACTED]!

It rings in one’s head. The workers body moves before the mind, abandoning both glass and cloth in the sink as one bolts from behind the counter, past the baffled customers and employees, through the heavy wodden door and into the snowy night. The moon shines through a gap in the thick clouds coming from north.
North… that’s what the tunes hummed, no? The worker runs, as fast as one can, through snow and wind in nothing but a shirt, pants and boots, the cold biting on one’s arms while stumbling up the mountain, theough the trees, towards…

((I try not to give the characters names, age, gender or describe anything about them. Harder than I thought, because “they” is already taken up by the first character.)