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Normally, I would think it odd to question your place in the universe, but standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at the ground thousands of feet below you...it tends to make you rethink things.
I had spent a lot of my life trying to live up to my father and his legacy; a well-known and well-respected academic whose research regarding other worlds had been groundbreaking, cracking the foundation of the limits that we had always thought could never be surpassed and upsetting the entire structure that our knowledge had been based upon. Possibilities no one had never even dreamed of were now achievable through my father's studies, and by all accounts, I should be proud to carry his name. But even though I know that his work had and continues to change the world for the better, I cannot help but resent the spotlight that now hung over him, and by proximity, me.
I remembered the first time I had seen one of the spirits. The image of the white, silky tendrils instinctively wrapping themselves around my hand when I reached out to it was one of things I would never forget. They gathered in groups, swimming through the air in sync and speaking softly to each other in a language I couldn't comprehend. Their voices were faint, but powerful, echoing with an ethereal wisp that sounded like the wind blowing across the plains and causing the murmuring stones to sing.
Sometimes I heard them say something, a single word from thousands that I understood. I was not meant for this world, I know that now. Perhaps somewhere else, I will find meaning where I could not here. I’m not afraid to journey to the beyond.
I can hear the wind calling, and I must go.
