the ghost and the bright voice

“Who- ..um. Good.. morning..” the small voice seeps through, “who are you? Where am I?”

“Not you, little bird, ” the bright voice smiles, “her – your friend.”

“Friend?” asks the confused little bird, “Oh. We, um. Just met. Sort of. I think-”

“I am sure it is a lovely story..” the bright voice cuts in.

“Wait-”

“..but I am afraid you may not tarry.”

“There is no story,” the little bird snaps, “I don’t know this ghost, I don’t even know who I am! I don’t know how I got here, and I can’t remember where I was before you started yelling that we didn’t belong here just now!”

“As I said, little bird, your friend does not-”

“I am not a bird!”

Something passes closes in a wave.

“Not a bird,” the bright voice beams, “so you know who you are, after all.”

“Hey.. y-yeah. I’m not a bird,” the small voice says to itself, “okay.. what else am I not?”

“Running out of questions,” the bright voice grins, “anytime soon, I imagine.”

“Dude, what the hell is your problem? Who are you anyway?”

“The same as you: not a bird.”

“..terrific.”

“And now,” the bright voice says, “you must be on your way.”

“What? Didn’t I just get here? And go where? What way!? Way to what!?”

“As you can see, there is only one way on which to be.”

“Oh,” the small voice says quietly, “..oh. And where does.. that lead?”

“To the other end,” the bright voice glows, “of course.”

“..of course,” the small voice drips, “the other end! That’s perfect-”

“Little bird..”

“-because you’re here-,” the small voice dries.

“Little bird,” the bright voice warns, “wait..”

“Really I can- wait for what!?”

“For your friend,” the bright voice warms, “the ghost, of course.”

“OF- …” the small voice starts, stops, sighs, resigns, “..yes, of course. Ghost, my friend, please, if I may – I’m ready to get the hell out of here. Whenever you are, of course.”

The bright voice fades from view behind them.
On they go, to the other end.