Voices

My life has been a study in survival.

As far back as I can recall, two principles have been sacrosanct: the strong live, the weak die and put the scare in them or become the laughing stock of the community. Although, the latter would have been a hazardous venture, given my size.

Talking about my size. I wasn't always aware of it. I thought that I was like everyone else -- that pops and mom and my uncles and aunts were all big because they were grown. Until one day.

I was playing tug of war with my mates and my team kept winning. After one particularly nasty spill, I was laughing so hard at the other guys, I keeled over.

"You big bully," a tiny voice said. "Why don't you pick on people your size."

That was the first definitive voice I ever heard.

The next was the day an adult I used to look up said to me, "When are you going to stop depending and start fending for you?" It cut me to the quick.

I was taking a leisurely patrol when the third incident occurred. "Move!"

This voice was different from every other. It brokered no argument. While others had interacted with my ears, this had reached inside to my core.

I obeyed. The voice was like GPS. With no additional instructions, it led me to my destination.

"Open your mouth."

Another directive that made no sense. But I complied anyway.

Something was falling from above, right into my open maws. I snapped it shut.

For three days, I felt no hunger. Just this sense of being a part of something grand.

After the third night, the voice came again.

"Go drop my prophet."

I sought out the coast, and vomited him.

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