Barbara was oblivious. The patch on her neck was slowly filtering medication into her system, dulling her senses and making her world a little dimmer. At least it took away her bouts of vertigo. Unknown to her, a subtle turbulence deep inside the planet was causing the earth’s crust to quiver like a bell. The earth was singing and she could not hear it.

She heard dogs howling outside. “What’s up with them?” she asked her husband. Robert was watching television, having paused his morning preparations to watch a news report about unusual seismic activity.

She expected a quip about how dogs could hear things people couldn’t. Instead he said “Do you hear that?” With pants half on, he headed to the front door and walked outside as if to check. A cool, morning breeze drifted in through the open door from the nearby ocean, sending a shiver down Barbara’s spine.

“Hear what?” she asked, but he didn’t answer as he walked down to the street.

Running after, she saw he was not alone. Everyone in the neighborhood had left their homes and were walking in various states of dress toward the beach.

Barbara shook her husband’s shoulder. “Robert, what are you doing?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Not now, Barbara,” he said in annoyance. “I need to find out who’s singing.”

“I don’t hear anything,” she said. She tried to pull on his arm, but she was diminutive compared to her husband. He barely felt it. Without hope of stopping him, she could do nothing but follow.

As they walked, she saw people pouring in from every avenue, the stream of people becoming a river flowing toward the water. They walked until they reached the shoreline, stopping at the water’s edge. Thousands of people lined the beach to either side, staring off over the ocean.

“I’m scared, Robert. Please, let’s go home.”

“I am going home,” he answered. Then he walked into the water. Barbara grabbed his arm, but no matter how much she screamed and tugged he would not stop. He slipped from her grasp and was gone. So was everyone else. Barbara was alone in the water, cool waves lapping at her chest.

Returning to the shore in confusion, she was joined by a pack of dogs who stopped on the shore nearby to stare out over the water. Then they too walked in and disappeared.

Frightened, she fled. Barbara ran through empty streets to a vacant home. It brought her no comfort. Even the television was silent, every channel black. She lay in bed, rocked to sleep by her sobs.

She awoke to the song. Her medication had run out as she slept, allowing her senses to return. She could feel the sound in her bones, low and sonorous. It awoke an ancient instinct, a call to the first animals who walked on land to return to the comfort of the waves. Back at the beach, she watched the moon rise over the water. Then she went home.