Bad Karma

Things don't just happen in this world

Reader and the Voice

I can’t say whether I live alone or whether I am involved in a lot of people’s lives. Ever since it started happening, I’m not sure whether I’ve been crazy the entire time or whether something very bizarre is going on. It’s not like I can tell anyone about it. I didn’t have to imagine what they sounded like because I really did hear them. They fly through the sky invisible, roaring like jet engines.

Sometimes the pressure of the houses and streets gets to me. All those minds awake. Eyes watching and thinking I can imagine the pressure that creates on people’s lives. I used to just take the dog a walk. The best time is after 3am. All the public transport is done. All the good television is done. Most of the regular people are asleep and the occasional night rider down the highway breaks the silence. They don’t even pay you a second glance.

“Reader, embrace me!” the voice demanded as I looked into the mirror staggeringly. I didn’t see myself; My body was blurred, my face distorted and my eyes were bloodshot with animistic, yet dazed, diamond-shaped pupils, my iris had seemingly disappeared. The room was either dark, or I had lost my perception of light, in all honesty, I didn’t know. I looked down at my hand, and its sized vacillated as my heart raced in unison.

I fell to my knees clenching my heart since its burning was too much to bear. The voice burst out once again “Stop trying to resist me Reader, we are one!” I didn’t know what to do, but I knew that I was more significant than the situation. The air whistled with my fearful heartbeats. I tried apologetically asking for it to leave me but it insisted that it stay. The voice claimed to be my friend, but friends rarely come in this form.

I guess this why people say to stay away from the occult, but even in my state of insurmountable fear, I remained obdurate in my quest. “I am the God you have been seeking, mortal!” The voice exclaimed, shattering the despair-filled silence I had become submerged in. “I offer you nothing but power, take it or perish” The ultimatum was presented and since I didn’t know if I was dead, dying, dreaming or merely intoxicated I accepted the forced offer.

When the voices came, it did not take me by surprise. So cleverly disguised inside my own head, they were. When a thought enters your head, you never question the origin. When I think about it, how can I really trust those words? Even though the words have my own inner voice, why do they speak to me?

“Why don’t you take a walk tonight? It may calm you down.”

“I’m tired and plus it is cold outside.”

My own inner dialogue never alerted me that it may be strange. But then again, surely I should know everything inside my own mind already without having to reason with myself? The feelings of regret. Those feelings of guilt. Those feelings had never vocalised themselves before. Or perhaps I had never noticed until now. Sometimes during those tense nights, when caught between two worlds, those inner words took a darker tone. They belched with fire and smoke, and they kept me awake. I never noticed the change, but even during the day, I found myself searching. Every stranger on the bus and every smile from a friend had a deeper meaning. I yearned for attention and for someone to validate my birthright. Is there anyone else such as I? Every film, song and event flowed together.

All part of the same storyline of a hidden plot to change the world. The world synchronised to my plight, and soon I began to notice the signs. During those nights, between worlds, I tried to convey a message yet my mind would only scream and belch the fire and smoke. Sleep evaded me, and I would stay awake all night and fall asleep in the early morning. I would awake that night, and the process would begin anew. My sleeping time would come later and later, and I found myself have to bear the day after my long nights of trying to auto-write the messages trapped inside my own mind. I’d stare at pieces of paper and watch them move as if propelled by a hidden magnetism I began to sense between all objects. When I tried to confirm they had moved, they slid back to their original position mocking me. I bought a web camera and recording the pieces of paper using my computer. When I played them again, it was not evident there was any movement at all by when sped up the film it was as if the pieces of paper were contracting and pulsating. When I skipped to the end, it was evident that the article had moved from its original position at the beginning of the recording.

I read somewhere that coffee has the same taste as stomach bile and this began a strange fascination with the drug. I’d use it to increase my waking time and forced myself to stay awake for up to two days at a time. The days were hellish, and I was forever tempted to hide from the sun, yet the worlds magnetism became more and more evident the longer I was awake. Soon it became a habit to, every day, walk outside to the phone box and give her a call. She would never answer, but I never thought she wouldn’t. She was rushed and did not have time anymore for someone as crazy as I. Looking back on our early days I missed how she would make me feel special. She would listen to my tales of fireworks and forest spirits, and it validated me for those brief moments we had shared.

I’d try to make sense of my scribbling during the day. My handwriting became like a child’s. The words would not follow a straight line, and the t’s would sometimes resemble the fs. My book filled up, and it looked like the ramblings of an insane person. Every night I would draw strange symbols unknown to me, and my inner voices became a crowded room of many people who all disagreed. Every night I would let in another voice hoping they would have the answer to my endless searching.


The word would be written over and over again. The word repeating in my mind every time I asked for some meaning to my crowded brain. I would dream of abandoned places and of making love to a ghostly woman. She became the only kind voice in my mind. She would warn me of the other’s treachery. But yet she was like a sister to them, and I often wondered if even she could be trusted at all. During my trips outside I would disrupt the people and their magnetism. I could not urge them to make a decision but I willed them to look at me and they always eventually did. I would implant emotions inside them. I would rape their minds and molest their thoughts. I watched their legs clench, their minds are totally unaware of my influence. Sometimes some would even remark to their companions that their heart rate was rising for no reason. I never doubted that my power was growing, but it became increasingly impossible to prove without a doubt that I could do the things that I could.

Every day that fine line between the two worlds was blurred that little bit more. From deep inside my stomach the fire and smoke belched, and the imagined outline of my dog’s ears would perk up at things I could not hear, smell things I could not detect and howl at the invisible roaring jets in the sky.



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