It was on a night like any other, as I lay sleeping in my bed, that I heard this soft voice whisper in my ear. "Come sit in the Garden with me, Martha." At first I lay there very still, afraid to open my eyes, but when I finally got up the courage, I opened one eye, then the other, and looked around, seeing no one. I let out a deep sigh of relief, pulled the covers up closer to my face, and tried once more to sleep. Only a minute could have gone by before the same soft voice whispered once more in my ear, "Come sit in the Garden with me, Martha." This time I sat straight up in my bed, then turning on the light closest to me, I crawled slowly out of bed, and slipped into my fuzzy pink slippers, and began searching high and low for whoever or whatever kept whispering in my ear. I looked under my bed, I looked in the closet; I even looked in my shoes. Yet to no avail, for I could find no one. I even gave my cat, Pumpkin, a suspicious look but could not blame him as, in the fifteen years he had lived with me, he had never as much meowed a word. Pumpkin, who was rather large as he loved to eat and sleep, stretched with disgust at having been disturbed and, after giving me a long drawn-out yawn, decided that there was nothing to be fussing over and continued his slumber. Unsure as to what to do next, I decided to lie back down and, keeping the light on, close my eyes, pretending to sleep. This time I was sure I would catch whoever was whispering in my ear. I could hear the ticking of the clock and feel the gentle breeze from my open window, but no matter how hard I tried, I did not hear that soft whisper again that night.