Speaking In Tongues  

Chapter Five

Ken Preston

26 February 2024

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

In the recording studio, Kurtz found some audio of whispering voices. Sounded creepy, but when he mixed the Voice of God, as he’d come to think of that recording, in with the whispers, he liked the effect it made. He played it over the speakers and lay on his back on the floor, and closed his eyes. He played it real quiet, just on the edge of his ability to hear it.

Played it over and over until finally he believed he could hear intelligible words surfacing through the whispers, dancing around on the edge of his mind.

“I’m bored.”

Kurtz’s eyes snapped open, his whole body jerked, and he was fully back in reality, the Voice of God lost behind Sindy’s grating whine. She was standing in front of him, in her cut-off jeans, ripped so high you could see her ass cheeks, and a shirt tied around her midriff, just under her breasts. She was chewing gum, looking at Kurtz like it was his fault she was bored.

Kurtz stood up and flicked off the recording. He doubted Sindy had even noticed it was on.

“Yeah? What the hell do you expect me to do about that?”

He picked up the bottle of Ten High, his second one, and unscrewed the cap. He had a proper buzz going on, but it wasn’t enough. While he had been listening to the recording, his mind had felt crystal clear, like a still, blue lake on a cold winter’s day. Looking at Sindy, listening to her screechy voice, his mind had morphed back into a big ball of wet cotton wool.

“Wanna go to bed?”

“Just get the hell out, will you?” Kurtz snapped, jabbing a finger at her. Whisky slopped out of the bottle, and Kurtz licked it off his hand.

Writing in the Shadows is a reader-supported publication. To continue reading, receive all posts and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber.

Insert Content Template or Symbol