[ WP ] You possess an ability to turn off one or more of your senses to heighten the others . Today is the day you make a mistake .

I had never tried it before -- I had never thought to. 
 
 I was 10 years old when I first felt what it was like to see like I had never seen before. I was sitting in class looking out the window. The teacher was going over the capitals of the states again, and I saw a squirrel in the tree outside our second-story window. I watched the wind rustle its hair and the sun glint off its beady black eyes. The teacher's voice faded to a low buzz, and I thought I could see the individual fine hairs on its paw. 
 
 I had just begun examining the ant crawling next to it on the branch when the entire world shook. It was so startling I yelled, but no sound came. I looked about to see students in various states of interest and my teacher bent next to me with concern in his eyes. 
 
 Sound came crashing back, like the classroom was on a cliff overlooking a raging sea. But no one else seemed perturbed and the teacher just said my name, as though repeating, questioning. I must have given the correct sequence of replies thereafter, for eventually the teacher resumed his lesson. 
 
 I only really ever told anyone once, when I was 12. I was talking to my friend as we were sitting by the lake on a class field trip. I asked him if he could see the sign over there, across the lake. He said no. I told him to just concentrate and let the sounds go quiet. He tried, but soon became frustrated and said he didn ’ t know what I was talking about. After more unsuccessful prodding and explanation of how it feels, it began to sink in: he just didn ’ t know. 
 
 That was 9 years ago, and since then I had learned and grown. After my first anatomy class I had experimented with the other senses and found similar control. Sight was the most powerful, followed by hearing. Touch could enhance another sense somewhat, while taste and smell together couldn ’ t match touch. There were other sensations, like that of the location of my body relative to itself, which could be controlled, but it was so unsettling that I never bothered with it. It didn ’ t help much anyway. 
 
 It was all quite interesting – the things you could achieve with the concerted effort of the other four senses were breathtaking. But I had never thought of closing them all. So there I was, sitting cross-legged on my bed, when I tried the unthinkable. With hands placed on knees, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it all slip away. 
 
 Darkness, silence. I stopped feeling my legs, my hands. I even let go of my internal sense of posture. A moment of panic gripped me. In the past there had always been something left on which to focus. Now I felt nothing, an empty void, and focused ever inward. Yet there still were things. Hunger? I let that go too. 
 Soon I was only my uppermost consciousness. And as I peered deeper into the void, I thought I heard – no it can ’ t be that – I thought I… *heard* voices. 
 
 I wanted to hear them – to understand them. I began to shed things. Memories that no longer seemed relevant. The voices were drawing me. Welcoming. Pleading. Demanding. I began to let go of other things. I don ’ t need to walk right now, anyway. I can relearn all those subjects I am taking this semester. 
 
 They sang to me. Their fervor was insatiable, drawing me on. I let go. It became easier with every step. It was all rubbish, hardly worth stopping to look back. I was with them. I am singing their song now. 
 
 - - - - - 
 
 A body slumped against the wall. It was discovered a day later by a roommate, dead.
