Whispered

Whispered. A sound undistinguished, forcing the ears to listen more intently, giving the mind, flashing images of the whisperer. We both know only you and I are here. We both know neither you, nor I spoke, full voice or in a whisper. The animals caught it, too, lifting their heads to the sound. A low, rumbling growl, is emitted by the dog, as hair on his back rises. The hairs on my arms and neck rise, too, in response to the sound. A cold chill enters the room and we look at each other, sure someone has entered, though the doors are locked and we see no one. If a mind can travel in fear, to respond to imagined words, how far can it travel in joy? Locked in the parlor, not wishing to move to the whisper; in joy I'd travel to the moon and beyond. Yet here we are, choosing to be frozen by fear.