The Whisper of an Inorganic Being

As you navigate the winding dirt roads of the White Mountains in Jackson, New Hampshire, the dust kicked up by your tires dances in the sun streaks in your rearview, painting the air with a golden hue. These roads seem to whisper tales of days gone by, when we rode them hard and the only other travelers were the town’s elderly couple making their way to church on a Sunday morning.

Your eyes catch sight of an upcoming road sign, its weathered surface bearing the words “Bus Turn Around Ahead.” Chuckling to yourself, you doubt there will be any buses traveling these remote paths, let alone turning around. Your skepticism proves right once again as you pass the sign without encountering any sign of a bus.

Another sign looms ahead, proclaiming “Children Playing.” You scoff, muttering under your breath about the town’s weakness of falsehoods. Yet, as you continue along the road, not a single child’s laughter fills the air.

“This town lies.”

Crossing into Bartlett, your destination town, you approach yet another sign with a sense of cynical anticipation. As you round the corner with old Gran-Dad at a 45-degree angle, your eyes catch the words “Caution, Blind Person.” With a wisecrack tone, you jest to yourself about the town’s honesty or lack thereof with their careless road signs depicting truth.

But your amusement fades abruptly as you witness a blind man at the end of his driveway, cane in hand, reaching into his mailbox. Reality crashes in around you as you realize that, in this instance, the town’s warnings were indeed accurate.

Now this town tells it how it is.

Tires screech—

I’m jolted into a moment of reckoning. Today is the day of my death; I will go down without a fight. I will resign yourself to my fate without protest. I am led by an inorganic being toward the distant hand painted white-capped mountains, their peaks beckoning like silent sentinels.

Inside, my thoughts are chaotic, not about the future, but about what I’ve lost. I do not resist. Suddenly I’m wrapped in warmth, a sense of calm washing over me as I embrace the warmth.

I reach a land unlike any other defying description. Everyone is here, as if time and space had no meaning, where the boundaries of reality blur into insignificance.

“Why are all of you here” I asked. Their responses come in whispers that tickle the edges of your consciousness, a gentle tingle in both my ears.

“You took so long because you fought… you resisted.”

“Resisted what?” An inaudible buzz tickles my inner ear.  

“How long have I been gone from the road?”   

“There is no gone, there is no road, you are just now awakening and prepare yourself for the next level.“  

“What level?” 

“Your new existence beyond comprehension, of a journey towards unity with the divine, the One.”

“But, what is a new existence, I am me and still here, am I not?”   

“Existence is but a simple level of many to allow us all our will to move on. There is no me or here or there or now.”   

“Move on where?”  

“To the next level of existence.”  

“But what is the next level?” 


“I don’t feel ready. Am I ready?” 


“What makes me ready for this next level of perception?” 

“You have completed level 62 and the next level awaits you.” 

“What is level 62?” 


“Yes, Earth” 

“Earth is a level?” 

“Yes, Earth is level 62”  

“How many levels are there?” 

“As many as it takes to become One.”

“Become One with what?”   

“The One” 


“The Whole as One” 

“Does God exist?”  

“Do you believe that someone or something had to start all of this?” 

“This—as in where I am now?” 

“This, is up to you to decide.”

“You are to begin the next level in three, two—.” 

“Wait, Wait”, I yell. “I don’t understand, is the earth what we know or is it different from what we perceive while on it?” 

“You are in your infant stages, when you are complete, you will hold this knowledge, but for now, it will not be enough for you to comprehend.” 

“What is the next level? What is beyond that level? Does it ever stop?”   

“You will compile your knowledge of all your past existences as a collection of the whole, the “One” 

“How will I know I am part of the whole?”   

“You won’t know, you will just accept it and be grateful that you are there, like you did on earth.”   

I grappled with the truths unfolding before me. I’m filled with a sense of awe and wonder at the mysteries of the universe that my soul being seems to now makes up. My questions remain unanswered when a being softly touches its cold wet finger to my forehead and I’m left with a newfound acceptance of the unknown and a determination to embrace the journey that lies ahead.

“Does everyone become a part of the whole, the One?” I asked.

“No….. some never perceive and appreciate their existence” 

“What happens to them,like my mom and dad and brother and sister?” 

“They to move one to their level of soul grade but others immediately begin level 62 again, to continue the knowledge they lost or did not retain.”  

“How do they continue their knowledge?” 

 “The same way you did.”  

“How is it you know all of this?”   

“We are the ‘One’,  speaking to you in this whisper.”

Way Past Tipsy - ran kime

Read “The Whisper of an Inorganic Being” and other stories by Ran Kime in the collection Way Past Tipsy & Other Silent Cries for Help

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Ran Kime Writer
Ran Kime, a writer, poet, musician and recluse from New Hampshire, crafts abstract stories, flash fiction & poetry that probe the psyche. His collections include “Spectre of the Brocken: Halo for the observer” and “Way Past Tipsy & Other Silent Cries for Help”.