Chapter 3

Its words were true , for after that day , Grant was stuck in his workshop. Two nights after their picnic at the park , he found a little box at his doorstep, only after constant ringing of the doorbell disrupted his work. In it was a ragged teddy bear with an eye missing , yet wrapped in silk , sitting in the box as if it was abandoned. It looked beyond repair and if he did not know about the job, he might have given up on it and toss it away. But it was a challenge, and challenges are what the voice could never refused. It worked him endlessly, breaks were non existent and short naps he took still left him exhausted. He felt like a prisoner to the voice in his head, but what can he do? It offered him advice he needed and companionship he wanted, Grant could hardly remember anyone who had always been beside him like it has. Despite his devotion to it , unknowing to the voice , Grant had always secretly waited for her. The stranger who appeared from nowhere, yet he felt an odd comfort around her. He bit his lips, a bit disappointed that she did not turn up to hand it to him herself. It was as if she had fed him a sip of freedom and now he is silently grasping for more. He hid that fact from the voice, deep at the back of his mind of course. Who knows what might it do? Scream at him for days?

Or worse. He gulped with trembling hands.

It might disappear.

He immediately dismiss that thought not wanting to give it any ideas. So used to having it around , Grant did not know what he would do without it, it was as if the voice was the architect of his skills. He needed those skills , to continue to see the smiles of his customers and most importantly to -

Grant frowned.

It felt odd. The atmosphere around him felt colder, sending a shiver down his spine. The room so silent , he could hear the ticking of his quaint little clock. His heart beat so strongly , he could almost feel it pulsing throughout his body. Before all this... before he was so obsessed with his work , there was something else. Something he had so much love for , he let himself be devoured by the ambitious desire for perfection , to earn enough to afford that something, and that desire manifested as the voice.

That was it wasn't it?

Does his memories deceive him?

"These look lovely, don't they? They must have been made with a lot of care," came a voice but only a slender hand can be seen from the shadow , caressing a little doll he had made. He could hardly hide his anxiousness , she came once again only to see him in his shabby work clothes.

"Yes, they have been , but they are nothing compared to this," he said , picking up an ornate box , carefully wrapped in the form of a present.

"Open it," he said with excitement in his eyes, he had worked , if possible , harder than he ever has, spending a whole day tinkering around, replacing its eyes, brushing it up and even giving it a cute bow tie. All that effort to finally see the woman smile and to lift those sorrowful eyes.

She held it in her arms , a faint smile appearing on her face.

"It looks beautiful , thank you so much," she said , but her smile got no wider and her eyes were still full of sorrow.

"Perfect isn't it?" Grant replied in confusion. This was a first, he never had a customer who didn't smile from ear to ear when they got what they wanted. But he followed the voice's instructions word for word and it was flawless to the point that even a nitpicking perfectionist like it.

"No."

"No," she repeated again , but this time , a single tear flowed down her rosy cheeks, "perfection would be when my husband gave it to me. When we had nothing but he worked on it with all the little skills he could muster. But it was perfect, for it was made with love."

"I don't understa- "

"He did it for you , you know," the voice spoke up for him instead. For some reason, it was no longer speaking in his mind , for its ominous presence was felt throughout the room. The lady nodded as if she could hear it.

"I know, and I regretted everyday I let him slip deeper into your grasp," she held back her tears and placed her hand on Grant's face.

"I am sorry , my dearest , I should have saved you sooner , I shouldn't have let you be consumed by it."

She turned and looked around the store.

"How about we let him choose, little voice, what he loves more is up to him."

"Very well, passion shall be the judge."

Grant tried to protest, confused as to what was going on. The back of his head hurts and the room felt like it was swirling. Memories began to flood Grant's mind as if they were initially locked behind a vault. The days of poverty and worry. As if the past overwhelm the present , he found himself in a small hut , overdue bills were lying in a mess on the dining table. The industrialization has started and the factory retrenched its workers , now all rendered obsolete.

"I will get a job, you don't need to worry," came a soft peck on the cheek , he looked to his side. The woman stood right beside him, beautiful as ever but in simpler clothing. Jane , yes, that was her name. He never asked her, for he always knew, the memory was just deep in his mind.

"No, don't, you would have to come late every night and I would worry even more. I will work things out, I promise," He said with a deep sigh, "My father used to be a craftsman, maybe I could reopen his store again."

He would do anything to keep her hands smooth and uncalloused, for he loved her more than anything else in the world. So they left their home, to the nearby town where his father used to own a carpenter shop. Days went by and the quaint little broken down store in the corner of the street looked more welcoming. They moved their belongings into the little workshop at the back , a temporary home until they got back up to their feet. This was a last resort, if this business plan failed, they would have nowhere else to go. Grant knew that, for he worked days and nights without sleep , memorizing the techniques his father taught him during his spare time.

After all the hard work he put in , it came into fruition, for there were few entertainments in the little town. The prospect of a toy store was successful for it attracted the curious, fascinated by the craftsmanship of the toys. For the first few days it opened, the dinging of the welcome bell never stopped , customers coming in and out, children and adults alike. The more fortunate children persuade their parents to buy while others would crowd the windows filled with display like an after school ritual.

The day came when they were finally able to afford a house again. laughter of joy came from the store again but this time it was not squeaky ones of children, this time it came from Grant himself.

"It's beautiful," Jane said , her eyes dreamy as she stared into those of the teddy bear Grant had gifted her.

"Look , it even has grey eyes, just like ours," Grant laughed, glad to see his wife cheering up again, her days of worries long gone behind them. He spent days working on it , though it was a simple project, for he wanted it to be perfect.

For he wanted something to make her happy before he asks.

"Do you think, uh , if its ok for me to stay here?"

It came out as a nervous laugh, almost as if it was a joke.

"Stay? Darling , our new house is really nice , it even has a porch, why would you ever want to stay in this dusty workshop?"

"Look , honey , I just , I have never had so much passion for my work before. Back at the factory , all it was , was drone labor. This, however, I feel like I can spend my whole life here and be content. Don't worry about a thing , I will come home from time to time."

"Are you sure about it?" She gave him a worried look and held his hand in hers, "don't overwork yourself , ok?

"Like I said , don't worry about it, it's just work. Who knows? Maybe I might find it silly after a while and come back home. I love you more than anything else in the world and I am doing it for you."

First it came as a whisper, Grant could not remember when it started manifesting but it was shortly after his wife moved out from the workshop. A voice that slowly accompanied his own in his mind and they worked together , the voice spoke and he moved. At first he thought of it as a blessing , an angel providing insight of perfection to him. But soon he realized it took away things it felt redundant. Those things vanished , the time to eat or sleep , the desire to take a break, even his memories, his likes and dislikes.

Even her.

He snapped back to the present and his sensation seems to be altered. He could feel the dirt that caked his feet, see the paint covering his shirt, and the smell. It was overwhelming, he blushed when he realized it was coming from him and his sweat drenched clothes. How many days have he gone without showering?

"I am so sorry, my dearest , it was my fight as well as yours. I thought you were happy to be left alone with your work when you didn't come home for weeks, i should have known better," Jane wiped the tears from his cheeks with an embroidered handkerchief.

"I love-"

He tried completing his sentence but his head hurt from all the memories he had remembered and his mouth felt dry as ever. He collapsed in her embrace, the exhaustion overwhelming.

"Shush , I know."

"Well , voice? It looks like my husband belongs with me, you lost , now be gone."

"Really? I had my bit of fun anyways so i guess i will spare him. Remember now , loosen that embrace a bit and it might be enough space for me to swoop in." It gave a chilling laugh before falling silent forever , for Jane mustered all her courage to give it an answer.

"That will never happen, never again."

True to her words, the voice never came back for them ever again and the couple's love for one another was stronger than ever. Grant recovered from malnutrition and exhaustion but without the voice, his work was never the same. Jane always kept a close eye on him , persuaded him to let her stay in the store to help out more , even assisting him in painting over his wood works. And when the sun sets , she made sure they left the store together and never failing to eat dinner at home.

As for the voice , it flew through the ages, feeding on mind absorbed in work. Taking them from their families and friends in the guise of benevolent, only when they have died from exhaustion will it be satisfied. For its name is passion and anyone can step into its prison unaware.