Speaking In Tongues 

Chapter Four

Ken Preston

25 February 2024

A heavy metal rock star holding a mic and yelling into it.

Kurtz tried playing it backwards, and he tried speeding it up and slowing it down, and playing it quiet and playing it loud. He tried running it through pieces of software he’d picked up over the years, and he tried transcribing it, and then decoding it, and he tried speaking along with it.

But whatever he did, the Voice of God eluded him.

The Lord has something he wants to tell you, son, but you’ve got to have ears to listen, do you understand that?

Kurtz wanted to understand. God had spoken to him through the preacher, Kurtz knew that, felt it with all his heart, was convinced of that fact like he had never been convinced of anything before.

The only problem?

Kurtz hadn’t got a clue what the Almighty had said.

“I wish to God I’d never done it.”

Kurtz spun around in his chair. Thrash filled the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“What?” Kurtz said, but he already knew the answer.

“Made that recording, that’s what. God only knows why I took that radio mic out with me, maybe I just forgot I had it in my pocket. But when we stepped inside that church, my alcohol pickled brain thought it would be funny to get some audio recording of the holy rollers having a great time. And now you spend all your time with it, trying to make out that God has a personal message for you wrapped up in all that hoodoo-voodoo bullshit gobbledegook.”

Kurtz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe he has.”

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