Frequencies

 I

"Good morning, folks! It’s 7:25 on this lovely Tuesday, and here’s your latest weather update. We’re starting off with mostly clear skies across the region, but a surprise system is moving in faster than expected, bringing with it some sudden and scattered downpours later this afternoon. The roads could be slick, so drive safe.”

 

Lester reached for the knob of his car radio, keeping one eye on the road, and turned the dial. A cacophony of voices filled the old car: snippets of business reports, interviews with political pundits, fragments of classical music, and loud commercials blended into one confused, confusing, terrible symphony of life. Lester kept turning the dial.

 

“Welcome, seeker of sound, to LunaWave FM 99.9. You’ve just tuned in to a sanctuary beyond the static, a place where intuition hums, dreams speak, and the stars sometimes whisper back. Here, we travel the airwaves of the unseen. Stay with us. Breathe. Listen. The magic is already in motion.”

 

Lester exited the busy expressway. He would be at the office soon. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes. Tires screeching, his car came to a halt. The black cat he almost ran over jumped onto the sidewalk, leapt up a tall fence, and disappeared from view.

 

Lester rolled his window down and wanted to say something, but “Hey…” was all he could muster. He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed these happenings, but the street was empty.

 

“Odd,” Lester thought. 7:30. Where's everybody? He was about to roll his car window up, when he felt a sharp sting. A yellow wasp clung to his arm. Before he could flick it away, it stung him twice.

 

He had a strange feeling that it’d be one of those days, when karma comes knocking on his door to hand him a fistful of bills long overdue. Then, there was an actual knock on his door. An old woman, visibly disturbed, stared in Lester face, saying “Stop hurting them! Stop hurting them!” Lester made a confused face, smiled self-consciously, and sped away. "Crazy old hag," he muttered. 

 

He moved like a man in a trance, led more by muscle memory than will, accelerating, braking, turning, obeying traffic lights like commands from some invisible conductor. His arm throbbed. He pulled over to inspect it. The engine idled with a low, steady hum. Lester leaned back and closed his eyes to calm his nerves.

 

The radio crackled on.

“You’re listening to ‘The Shepherd’s Voice’ - broadcasting grace across the airwaves, reaching hearts beyond the noise. In a world of confusion and shadows, we bring light and truth. Now, here’s Pastor Elijah Cross, with today’s message: 'There are visible holes in Christ's hands and feet, aren’t there? (Amen.) We ask for forgiveness for our sins, but His marks do not go away, do they? (Halleluiah.) Every time you tear into another soul, you leave a scar, too, don’t you now? (Lord, have mercy!)'”

II

The blindfold was coarse against Lester’s eyes. He was being led somewhere, though no one spoke. Then, suddenly, he knew he was alone. He pulled the blindfold off and let it fall. His eyes adjusted slowly to dim light. He swallowed hard. His pulse pounded in his ears.

 

“…here I opened wide the door; Darkness there and nothing more….”

”But He answered him not one word, so that the governor marveled greatly.…”

“If God is for us, who can be against us?”

 

Lester’s mind was racing, voices, frequencies of different kinds talked over one another as if someone was turning a dial in his head. Words, fragments of books, the news, and vague memories surged and collided, crashing like waves against the jagged shoreline of his thoughts.

 

A shadow moved; Lester jumped, startled. “Enemy! Enemy!”

 

“You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something in your life.”

“Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much as your own unguarded thoughts.”

“The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles me.”

 

Lester was a terrified, confused animal, baring his teeth, ready to pounce, to tear flesh, to run, to flee, to take flight, to scream in complete abandon, from the depths of his bestial soul, with the terror of his raging blood that wanted to live and go on living and not spill and become a brown, dirty stain in the dust.

 

“The dog that barks, doesn’t bite.”

“Double, double toil and trouble…”

“Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!”

 

He wished he were an animal. Instinct would have told him what to do. Thought only confused him. Freedom only left him paralyzed.

 

He was surrounded. The shadowy figures didn’t move, but they stared unblinking, unrelenting. He thought of movie heroes: broad shoulders, gleaming swords, roaring guns. But how do you fight what lives inside your own skull?

“Come on! Come on!” Lester squeezed the words out through gritted teeth, mostly to encourage himself. His words echoed through the room, circling back to strike him like a boomerang. The shadows stood still, twitching nervously, mimicking Lester’s every move.

 

He was in a room of mirrors.

 

The anger, the fear, the bestial hunger for dominance, for blood, and the thirst for existence at any cost that rushed toward him from the faces in the mirrors were all him. Life conspired to grant him a brief insight into his own self. When he looked out into the world, did he not see projections of his fragmented, confused mind?

 

“There is a prodigious danger in the seeking of loose spirits. I fear it, I fear it. Let us rather blame ourselves...blame ourselves…blame ourselves…”

“To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing and be nothing.”

“We all, like sheep, have gone astray…”

III

A truck roared past Lester’s car, startling him out of his reverie, jolting him back into reality.

 

“…where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?”

“The multitude are ignorant of the truth and look only to reputation.”

“Guilt has very quick ears to an accusation.”

 

Frantic voices cackled in Lester’s mind along with the radio.

 

“You’re tuned in to FM 99.9, where the unexpected is expected, and surprises hide in every sound wave. Life throws curveballs, static, and strange signals, but hey, sometimes the best tracks are the ones you didn’t see coming. Some say surprises are the universe’s way of reminding us we’re not in control, others just call it Tuesday.”

 

Lester winced, cradling his swollen arm. He glanced into the rearview mirror and locked eyes with his own reflection.

Who’s looking at whom? Who’s real and who’s a reflection?

Outside, weekday traffic moved on sluggishly now. He watched the people frowning, yawning, blindfolded by their desires, their madness, and their own quiet unraveling. A moment ago, they did not exist; a moment from now, they will be gone again. 

 

"What we see in the mirror may not be who we are inside."

"You are the mirror of your own soul."

"If we could see our own souls, we would be ashamed."

 

The world felt foreign and cold. Lester tried to imagine a better one. But he was late for work. He rubbed his arm, sighed, and stepped on the gas, merging into the ceaseless current of life once more.

Author's Note

A few days ago, someone left some deeply strange and disturbing comments on one of my pieces. The experience was surreal—completely unexpected and genuinely unsettling. Reading the twisted fabrications of a fevered mind was disturbing enough, but what struck me even more was how quickly others accepted those fantasies as truth.

This story is inspired by that experience. It’s a reflection on the ways we tend to see only what we want to see—and how, in many ways, each of us lives inside a reality of our own making.

Reviews

[Lorry]

We do tend to see only what we want to see and hear what we want to hear. And all that before the day has begun and while you are rushing to work, you know that karma is right behind your every step.
Maybe that is why when I'm out I always put in my earphones, but listen to nothing other than warning signs that crazy is approaching.
It's nice to be nice, but nicer to be forewarned that karma is bringing crazy your way! 😃
I'm really trying not to read all your recent posts just to see what flavour of weirdness came your way, but I doubt I'd be totally surprised by the answer, despite the Cafe resembling more of an asylum with every passing day.
But hey, looking for the positives, at least they make me feel more sane!
😃