The Whisperer will find you, wherever you are. There is no point in hiding for he will forever lurk in the darkest corners of your mind, ready to attack when you least expect him to. Inside some people, he is weaker than the sun on a misty winter’s morning, for they are too strong for him to destroy them and he realises it is not worth his time. In those few lucky people, the Whisperer is content to surface every once in a while to ensure that he is not forgotten.
In others, he is a constant force that will haunt them day and night. They walk along as he whispers in their already shattered mind. He knows he has the power to defeat them, to crush their already damaged soul and he makes light work of it. They realise nothing until it is all too late.
The Whisperer operates a system in which the victim literally self-destructs. He feeds them thoughts of inadequacy which they lap from his mouth like water from a fountain of pure nectar. They do not have the strength to realise that the nectar is filled with a deadly poison, which they drink until all other liquid seems worthless.
These other liquids go by the names of Hope, Self Confidence and Happiness. The Whisperer is their kryptonite; with him they are powerless to save a single thought from twisting like a lump of discarded metal in a metal crusher. The Whisperer does not stay long in a person‘s mind; soon enough they have the ingredients engrained inside them so deep they are near impossible to remove.
Some of the strong people, the ones the Whisperer did not infect, try to help the weaker ones. But it is already too late and they have forgotten how to believe anything but the sound of the thoughts of imperfection and worthlessness that the Whisperer planted in their brains. The Whisperer does his job well, as those thoughts latch on to every human function; every positive emotion, movement, word and sound feels wrong and painful to the ones he catches in his spider’s web of self-loathing.
He is helped by the world around him. People provoke the ingredients like hot sunshine on sensitive skin, making them build and grow and stew until they’re stronger than ever they were before. And he laughs as he watches from his castle, the stronghold of his kingdom. The castle that was created on foundations of deceit, with a moat filled with the endless wasted tears of those he has made suffer.
For it isn’t enough for him that he himself is filled with a hate so bitter, so deeply engraved that nothing can dislodge it. The Whisperer is the tyrant of the nervous, the self-conscious and the afraid. They may be the ones with the thoughts that have the power to kill, but at the end of the day, the Whisperer put them there.