The Call
It was a night like any other, or so it seemed. The streets of the small town were wrapped in an eerie silence, broken only by the distant footsteps of those, like Sofia, hurrying home before the impending storm unleashed its fury. The sky, gray and heavy, heralded the arrival of something more than just rain.
As soon as the first raindrops began to fall, Sofia stopped under the awning of an old, closed bookstore. The sound of the rain, soft but insistent, seemed to want to speak to her. She pulled her jacket tighter around her body, shivering, and closed her eyes. There was a murmur in the air, as if the rain were whispering forgotten secrets.
As she listened, the murmur became clearer, and a sweet voice seemed to emerge from the sound of the drops: “Go home.”
Sofia opened her eyes suddenly. She was alone, yet that voice echoed clearly in her mind. It was a strange, familiar feeling, as if she had already lived this moment in a distant dream. She looked at the empty street before her. The streetlights flickered, and the wind carried dry leaves along the sidewalks.
“Who are you?” she murmured, almost involuntarily, as if she truly expected an answer.
The rain continued to fall, but now its whispers were stronger, more intense. The voice spoke to her of a forgotten place, a hidden garden beyond the edge of the town, a place Sofia had left many years ago. There, she would find the answers she sought, the answers her heart dared not form.
Sofia took a deep breath, the chill of the autumn air biting her skin. With one last glance at the road leading her home, she took a step in the opposite direction, toward the unknown, guided only by the whispers of the rain.
