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Straight from Roger's website:
"Call and Response is a photo-literary exploration devoted to the relationship between photographs and words. Using photographs from the Looking at Appalachia project, writers are encouraged to respond narratively to a single image in 1,000 words or less. We hope to use this platform to expand our community and encourage collaboration between photographers and writers."

Call and Response Guidelines:

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Photo Credit: Kari Gunter-Seymour. October 1, 2018 in Albany, Athens County, Ohio.

Tap, Tap, Tap

   Tap, tap, tap. Beep. Beep. Beep. The rhythmic tapping on the window from one of the songbirds outside, mixed with my alarm clock, caused me to blink my eyes open. Like golden ribbons of sunlight, the morning light shone through the open window, casting a warm glow on the room. The crisp mountain air wafted through the room, carrying the promise of a new day. The curtains, like playful spirits, danced in the morning breeze. The scent of freshly brewed coffee, a comforting morning ritual, made its way up the stairwell as I stretched and swung my legs over the side of the bed, ready to start another day in this idyllic setting. 

   I strode into the kitchen, still in my pajamas. When you have no plans for the day but to sit at your typewriter, what’s the point of fully getting ready? I was determined to finally get a grasp on my latest novel, a fantasy thriller. The house's silence created the perfect environment for my mind to work. I could feel it; today would be a productive day. 

   “Oh, she’s awake.” A voice, low and mysterious, echoed from somewhere. I froze. I lived alone in the middle of nowhere. This was the first time I had heard a voice other than my own in months. 

   “I’m just trying to see what she’s doing. You’re not the only one allowed to check up on her.” A second voice answered the first one. I gently set my coffee cup on the marble kitchen counter, venturing closer to the voices. The front room window was open from the night before. I reached for the baseball bat hidden in the hall closet, slinking quietly to the noises. An unexpected flash caused me to stumble and grab onto the staircase's railing for support. Holding my head, I steadied myself, blinking my eyes a few times. My vision was blurred, streaks of color mixing with my regular vision. The colors, the blurry vision, and the blackouts were becoming a common occurrence that I had no explanation for.

   “I’m not sure there’s much else we can do…” I rubbed my head at the echoing and muffled words. There were the unexplained mumblings, too, from phantom voices that became clearer and clearer every day. Maybe I’m spending too much time in this house. 

   “What does he mean there isn’t much else they can do?!” The second voice from earlier called in a hushed tone in response to the mumblings. I froze again; my body flushed with the wall, enough to go unnoticed by the intruders, and where I could peek around the corner and finally get a clear look at who the voices belonged to. My heart raced, and my breath quickened. I had to know who these people were and what they wanted with me. 

   “Would you just hush up?!” The first voice answered. “She can’t know the truth; if you keep it up, she’ll hear us and catch on. We must keep her company here…at least until they can wake her up.” 

   “They’ve been working to wake her up for months now. I think we need to accept that our story isn’t going to be told,” the second voice from earlier answered. 

   “It’s a shame seeing her trapped here in her own mind like this. The accident was worse than they thought, I think.” The first voice spoke. I knitted my brow in confusion. 

What was happening? What was the truth that I couldn’t know? Who was sent to check up on me? It was probably someone sent by my brother, my only living relative. He hated it when I moved into this house all alone. And what was this accident the voices were speaking of? The questions swirled in my mind, each one adding to my growing confusion. 

   I finally mustered up the courage to take a glance around the corner. To my surprise, the only beings outside the open window were two deer enjoying my plants in the front flowerbed. I sighed in frustration. No matter how many times I replanted these flowers, did every wives tale to keep the animals away or shooed them off, they always seemed to come back and wreak havoc on my beautiful flowers.

   “Come on!” I frowned, walking closer to the open window. “I just planted those yesterday!” I said in an attempt to shoo them away from the leafy vegetation. I held my head again, the color flashes returning to my vision. I closed my eyes tightly, groaning in pain. 

   “No need to be so rude! We’re just here to help you!” One of the creatures turned its head, looking at me as the words spewed from its lips. I dropped the baseball bat in pure shock, my mind struggling to comprehend what I was seeing and hearing. The animals were talking. This couldn't be real. 

   “Gwyn!!” The other animal quickly scolded, “You’re going to scare the poor girl! Please, don’t run. We just want to help you through this, Stevie dear…we’re trying to help you wake up from the coma!” 

Gwyn? Gwyn, as in the animal sidekick of my protagonist from the novel I’d been working on? I had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream. That was the only viable explanation for all of this. I stumbled backward, sitting down on the home's grand staircase. The headache crept its way back and I rested my head in my hands, the bright light flashes and colors reentering my vision. 

   The doe approached the open window, sticking her head inside, nudging the curtains to the side, and pleading with me in my broken state, “Stevie—Please—I can’t see you like this anymore. It’s been months. You have to wake up…You have to wake up before they decide whether you’ll wake up. If you don’t, we’ll all be trapped here forever, and our story will disappear with you.”

WRITTEN BY HALEY DEVORE
Bio: Born and raised in Southeast Ohio, Haley DeVore has been creating stories since she was little but just recently began sharing her writing with others. Her published works include two short stories, “Meet Me in the Fluorescent Glow” and “The Book Cellar,” and a short collection of poetry titled Poems About You. She proudly calls Athens home.

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