Have you ever heard a voice that seemed to come out of nowhere? One that just won’t leave you alone?
That’s what happened to writer Wendy Hobday Haugh. She was on a baking kick, finishing up some pies she’d made for her family, when she heard it clear as day in her kitchen. A voice with an unusual request.
Here’s Wendy’s story…
I was removing the last of four apple pies from the oven when a voice inside my head abruptly urged: Take Carol a copy of your story.
I stopped dead. “Where did that come from?” I wondered aloud, surveying my cluttered counters and dirty dishes. Until that moment I’d given little thought to when I might take my longtime neighbor Carol the Woman’s World issue in which a mystery story of mine had recently appeared.
I’d purchased an extra copy, and I had every intention of delivering it soon. But at that moment, all I wanted to do was clean up the sticky countertops.
Shaking aside the strange intrusion, I started cleaning–but only for a second more.
Take Carol a copy of your story, the voice persisted. Do it now!
Alright, alright! I thought. I grabbed the magazine and headed outside, feeling oddly uneasy.
“This is nuts,” I muttered to myself, trudging through the woods to Carol’s office, a five-minute walk away from my house.
Delivering the magazine was hardly a priority, especially since Carol was hard at work running her family’s business. But I shook off my misgivings, slapped a smile on my face and opened the door to her office.
She looked up from her desk, smiling brightly when she saw me in the doorway.
And just as instantly, my face contorted in terror . . . for behind Carol’s back, just beyond her large picture window, a fire was raging, 8-foot flames hurtling angrily skyward.
“FIRE!” I shrieked.
Carol spun around, saw the flames and raced outdoors. Thirty minutes later, the fire–which had actually tunneled underground as well–was fully extinguished. No one was hurt, no property damaged, but Carol and I were deeply shaken.
I’d been mystified enough when that voice had spoken to me earlier. But what if I hadn’t stopped what I was doing to heed it? What would have happened then? I’d thought I was merely delivering a mystery story to a friend when, in truth, a far deeper mystery was unfolding.
“I was so engrossed in my work,” Carol said, giving me a heartfelt hug before I walked back home. “I would’ve never turned around and seen the fire in time…You’re my hero.”
“No, Carol,” I said, grateful I’d listened to that peculiar voice from beyond. “I was just the messenger.”
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