You're Not Crazy



It was over just like that. After three years of hard work and dedication it was all over. He was off the football team. They told him he had been slacking off for weeks and they just couldn't handle it anymore. Football had been his only distraction. It was gone now. It really wasn't Micahs fault. He couldn't sleep. If he slept the voices would come back, or more specifically the voice. His mother's voice. His mother, who had been dead for 12 years. He shook his head football should be the least of his problems.

He turned into the driveway and killed the engine. He clambered out leaving his football bag in the bed of the truck. He walked through the doorway slamming the heavy oak door behind him, and throwing himself to the couch.

“Micah Robert Fitzpatrick! How many times have I told you not to slam that door?” His dad bellowed walking out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, Dad” Micah mumbled, his mouth blocked by the couch cushion. Joe heaved a sigh.

“Look, kid, you'll be fine it's just football.” Micah face scrunched up as he looked to his father.

“Your coach called me today and told me what happened,” he explained. Micah stayed silent. Joe reached over and ruffled his son's long blonde locks.

“'I promise you kid, you're gonna be just fine,” he said then walked back into the kitchen.
Micah peeled himself off the couch. He ran out and got his football bag then raced up the stairs threw it in his closet. At least if it was there he wouldn't have to see it. He face planted onto his bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

“Micah, how are feeling?” a voice asked. He looked up it was his mother's face. “Micah, Micah, answer me,”
“What?” he mumbled.

“I'm sorry about football, son. But it will all be okay. You will be fine Micah, just fine.”

“No, stop, stop talking to me, you're not real. You're not even here,” he whispered.

“I'm with you my son. I want to help you,” said the voice.

“Go away!”

Micah shot up in bed, covered in a cold sweat and shaking from how real it all had seemed. “I gotta get outta here” he mumbled to himself. He grabbed his Carhartt and his keys then dashed out to his truck. Revving the engine he threw gravel and sped down the country road.

He blared his horn all the way down the driveway. When he pulled up to the old farmhouse a girl his age came out looking less than pleased. She ran up to him black curls falling onto her shoulders slipping out of a messy bun that was perched on the top of her head.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“C'mon Di, Lets go somewhere, I have no life now,” he pouted. Dianna rolled her eyes but hauled herself into the old rusted Chevy anyway. They drove aimlessly her eyes never wavering from his face.

“Stop staring creep” he tried to joke but the mood just became tenser. He finally gave in. “Okay, yeah I'm still hearing the voices” She rolled her eyes.

“That's not what I'm worried about, that is actually pretty normal for you,”

“You think hearing voices is normal for me? So you do think I'm crazy, huh?”

“You. Are. Not. Crazy.” She punctuated each word with a sharp punch to his bicep. “But I still think you should tell your dad about all this, he could help you Mic” she was practically begging him.

“Oh, yeah that'll go great. Hey dad you know your wife that’s been dead for twelve years? Yeah, I hear her voice,” Micah deadpanned.

“Well, Its not a good idea to tell him like that,” Dianna shot back. Micah laughed but it was cold and humorless.

“But I'm serious Micah you are not crazy” Micah pulled up to her house and she got out without another word.

It was getting dark with the streetlights starting to turn on as he drove home. All the lights were out when he got home meaning he was there alone. As he walked in the door he heard it-

“Where have you been, Micah?” asked a voice.

“What?” he said quietly this wasn't the usual voice, this wasn't his mother's voice. “Who are you?”

“What a stupid question,” said the same deep unnatural voice. “Where is your father? Why are here alone all the time? Does he not care?”

“We care. We will always be here for you. He's broken, Micah, he can't care for you like we can. We understand you,” said another chilling voice.

“Son, I'm still here. I won't leave you. I'm still here for you,” his mother's voice joined the others.

Micah sat down on the couch shut his eyes and took ten deep even breaths. When he reopened his eyes the house was still and silent. He walked upstairs and went to bed. With the voices still buzzing in his brain, it was another sleepless night.

The next day at school was horrible. There were whispers of him being cut off the football team.

“I heard he's going crazy”

“I guess that's what you get for never going to practice”

“What is wrong with him anyway?”

The rumors and side glances lasted all day. When the last bell finally rang he was the first one out the door and the first one to the parking lot. He sighed in relief as he drove away from the school. Hopefully this would all be over by Monday.

When he arrived home there was a note from his father saying he would be working at the tire shop late and to stay out of trouble. After about an hour of pointless channel surfing Micah went out to his truck and went to cruise around town. He turned down a familiar rock road before he even realized what he was doing. Knowing her parents were probably home he parked down the road with his headlights off. Moving with as much stealth as a 6'5, 190 pound teenage boy can have he climbed up the terrace to her second story bedroom window. Red-faced and breathing heavily he tapped on the glass. A second later the curtain was pulled back and a confused Dianna appeared. She opened the window and pulled him into the room.

“What do you think you're doing?” she whisper yelled at him. Micah shrugged he really didn't know.

“You could have called, or texted, or just knocked on my front door like a normal person!”


“I was up for an adventure,” he said shrugging.

“I'll meet you outside,” she said as she shoved him back through the window.. As soon as she saw Micah had made it back down without breaking his neck, Dianna walked downstairs, yelled something at her parents and walked out the front door.

She walked to where his truck was parked leaned against the drivers side door and waited for Micah to get there. As he walked up his face twisted in confusion as he looked to her then to the house then back again, mumbling “How did you- I ran the whole- you have superpowers”

He leaned against the hood turned toward her. For the first time in what seemed like ages they both laughed. They talked about school, parents and how the Cornhuskers were doing. And just for a little while they got to act like normal teenagers. Until Micah said -

“I heard a voice, a new one, not the usual one,”

“When?” she asked.

“The other night after we hung out”

“At your house?”

He nodded. Dianna's face froze then she slowly looked up at Micah.

“Have you ever heard a voice outside of your house?” Micah shook his head.

“Do you know what this means?” she yelled in his face as she grabbed his shoulders and shook him. His blank and slightly startled look answered her question.

“Maybe it's not you maybe it's the house. I mean just think about how old that place is. Your mom couldn't have been the only person to have lived there and died. Have you ever asked your dad-“

“Di, take a breath,”

“If he's heard anything weird or seen something? No of course you haven't you won't talk to him about this. Even though he could-”

“Dianna, seriously stop” he said more quietly this time. But she stopped and looked him expectantly. He picked his nails and looked anywhere but at her.

“Look I don't know, I think I'm just gonna head home.”

“Mic, I didn't mean you tick you off. I just meant that maybe y'know just,” she stumbled over her words as her face turned bright red. Micah shook his head blonde curls falling into his face.

“No, it's fine. But I'm just gonna go it's getting late,” he climbed into his truck and left her in a cloud of dust before she could say another word.

When he arrived home he took a deep breath and tried to still his shaking hands. He walked to the door each step felt heavy and slow. His hands fumbled with the keys as he tried to unlock the door. Dianna's words kept racing through his mind “Maybe it's the house.” he finally got through the door and a rush of cold air hit him. It was absolutely silent inside. Then all at once the voices hit him. Hundreds of voices screaming, whispering, trying to be heard over all the others. Micah backed up out of the house and slammed the door closed. Once again he was in complete silence. He repeated the process a few times. Open. Screams. Shut. Silence.



Micah laughed loudly, he couldn't stop it was the kind of laughter that shook your entire body and left you gasping for breath. It was laughter from utter relief. He dashed back into the house and sprinted up the stairs. He grabbed his duffel bag and began cramming in random items of clothing either from his floor or the closet. He somehow managed to write a legible note to his father through the array of voices screaming in his ears. He slung the bag over his shoulder and dashed downstairs. As he ran out the door he heard one voice crystal clear-

“It's okay Micah. You have to go. We'll watch after your dad for you, Micah, Micah, you're not crazy,” it ended with a scream that made Micah's blood run cold. He covered his ears and ran frantically to his truck.