High Tension

High Tension

A Story by Allen Woodard

This story touches on the supernatural aspects of the world. Additionally it explains what could be happening in a parallel dimension to our own. Basically it's a story about a man dealing with the opening of his "third eye".


My eyes open.

I am awake.

I feel as if I'm being watched, as if a presence is just outside of my view. Yet no matter how hard I try I can't seem to turn my head to confirm it. So I try to roll over with the same result, complete paralysis. The air feels thicker, and time seems to slow down into a rhythm that mocks my heartbeat. A wobbling in-and-out of my ears throws my senses off balance, and in between I can hear faint whispering. I can picture the figure behind me leaning down, slowly moving closer to my ear. I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate and just as I feel the cold breath on my neck I re-gain control of my arm and use it to swing the rest of my body around, forcing a gasping shout from my lungs.

I look around the darkened room with wide eyes. My senses come back with a rush and focus to a point. I am alone. Rolling over the rest of the way I glance at the clock's bright red digital read-out. 3:58 AM. Wonderful, another early start thanks to good ol' night terrors.
I remove myself from the useless bed and slowly make my way into the bathroom that makes up one third of my downtown apartment. Before I can reach up and flick on the light switch there is a short pounding at my door. My hand freezes just below the switch as I look over at the double bolted entrance. Has to be someone with the wrong door, probably an irate husband tracking down his cheating wife. Ah yes, all I need to top off my already wonderful morning is a black eye and a sore jaw for answering my door.
I follow through with switching the bathroom light on, yet before I actually enter I see something in the corner of my eye and look to the entrance again. Someone had slid a small yellow envelope under my door. I ran my hand down my cheeks to my chin as I pondered this new revalation. I decided against going straight to the mail that was obviously intended for someone else, perhaps it's anthrax or a "Dear John" letter explaining to one fling that another has begun with no room for a fourth. Stepping into the cramped bathrom and up to the sink I swing the cold-water handle on and then proceed to give my face a good dousing with my cupped hands. By the time I switch the water off and look at myself in the mirror the nightmare I had earlier had faded. Turning from the sink I placed my hands on my lower back and stretched backwards with a grunt before making my way into my living room/kitchen.
I toss another glance at the envelope under the door and notice it is bulging slightly in the middle, I then continue to the kitchen and reach for the Capin' Crunch and a bowl. I turn the box over and get mostly Capin' dust since it's the end of the supply. After splashing on some milk for novelty sake I give the envelope a good hard stare as I chomp away on my cereal. Perhaps it's a little homemade bomb via the average modern day teen boy with high-speed internet and the ability to read blueprints posted on websites disguised as do-it-yourself home security. I drop my spoon into the already soggy bowl of slop and make my way to the damned thing, not being able to hesitate any longer I bend over and snatch it up. Taking it over to my desk I drop myself down into my imitation leather chair and snap on the writing lamp. Holding the envelope up I notice that it looks as if it were once white and had yellowed over time. I place it between the light and my vantage point to see that a normal sized cassette is inside, the spool holes clearly defined. Ah, so it's an audio form of terrorism. Maybe a high-pitched frequency that causes all of my appliances toz turn against me in rebellion to their constant servitude. I chuckled lightly at the thought and start opening the envelope at the seal. The adheasive comes away in a sticky thread as if the person who sealed it had the saliva of a toad. I flipped it upside down and let the cassette fall into my other hand. It was unmarked, save for the usual A on one side and B on the other. Seeing that it was already rewound and prepared, I popped it's A-side into the cassette deck on the shelf over my desk.
A grainy silence followed by what sounded like an almost in-human voice, that resembles a series of coughs rather than an intelligent language, played through my speakers. Hmm, perhaps it was somehow damaged during the delivery. Given the fact that it was intended for another address just supported the idea that the deliverer  was incompetent. As I reached up and tapped the stop button I noticed a toggle switch on the stereo, labeled "reverse audio".
Well, why not?
I toggled the switch into the alternative position and hit play again from where I left off. This time around the audio sounded a bit less alien, and as the speaking started it was clearly in English.
"Go back to sleep, Arnold", the voice spoke in an almost whispery hum. As if it were taunting me. I slumped back into my chair and watched the spool run out and almost jumped out of my skin as the stereo made a loud click when it auto-stopped.

© 2008 Allen Woodard

Author's Note

Allen Woodard
Part one of an ongoing series.

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Hi Allen,
just a few observations:

revalation (revelation)
for novelty sake (for novelty's sake ie. for the sake of novelty (?))
toz turn
adheasive (adhesive)
in-human (inhuman)
The adheasive comes away in a sticky thread as if the person who sealed it had the saliva of a toad. (tends to suggest self-adhesive envs. which don't need licking?)
played through my speakers - necessary?
address just supported the idea (the - my?) just (necessary?)
labeled (...lled)
Well, why not? - then again why? :-)
"Go back to sleep, Arnold", the voice spoke in an almost whispery hum, as if it were taunting me.(?)
I'm left thinking about Des's boiler here...
...but I like it - clearly his paranoia will come into play later?
...almost jumped out of my skin - seems a bit nervy, or had he begun to doze?
Must admit I thought he was returning from some OBE after reading the intro but no - ...to good ol' night terrors.
I feel this just needs a bit more of a 'handle' to its subject, in that it doesn't seem to convey any sense of the 'occult' - waking up early from night terrors and having an envelope shoved under the door... I don't know, but I don't get any sense of anything really mysterious from this... not that this is necessarily bad, but if you want your reader to come back for part two...
but as it is I am wondering who would (presumably) be wandering around at night sliding envelopes under doors
thanks for sharing - intriguing...

Posted 13 Years Ago

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Added on April 18, 2008


Allen Woodard
Allen Woodard

Palm Bay, FL

I've been writing fiction since I could pick up a pen. I don't have much to share about myself at this time. So I'll let my work speak for me. more..