Lost Echoes

59

EXCERPT FROM HARRY’S JOURNAL

And so I lay me down to sleep at night, and the bad ear, the gun-banged ear, lies dead, and the other, it does not pick up sound. No, sir.

I hear. But I do not hear what I used to hear. I do not hear behind the sounds. The images rest. No flashes at the edge of the eye, no wiggles of light, and no sensations of terror.

It’s just me now. No time-traveling souls.

And I realize something that I should have realized all along. I wasn’t just afraid of what was in those sounds. I was just afraid. Afraid of life. Afraid of failure. But I had a moment. I was brave. I actually fought well. Even if I won through luck. Had the chief not been standing on that ledge, had his arm lifted a bit more quickly, he might be writing in his journal, telling it what a fine shot he was.

Yeah. I was brave. Or crazy. Angry. And, for one fleeting second, I was one with the universe.

Good for me!

I did what I did, scared or not.

And you want to know something, my journal friend?

Come on. I know you’re curious.

Here it is. I’m still scared.

Scared my hearing in my right ear will come back, and with it will come again my special gift. My fucking curse.

Seems likely. It was just a sudden explosion. Temporary, the doctor says.

I’m scared of that, the sounds returning. Scared I might like a drink someday. Scared of lots of things.

But maybe not so much as before.