Beyond the Door | A Story

    

    Something woke him. He did not startle awake, nor was he covered in a cold sweat like he had awoken from a terrible nightmare. He simply opened his eyes. He was already sitting up, staring across his room to the doorway leading out to the silent unlit hall as if something had caught his attention. He was not afraid as a child might be. No tingling along his spine. No hairs standing at the back of his neck. Jamie tossed the blankets back and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. The digital clock glowed brightly in the darkness of the room showing unmistakably 3:47 a.m. He reached under the lamp shade, fumbling blindly with the knob until the lamp flickered to life sending its gold glow over the walls. For the last few weeks he had been waking up at exactly 3:47 a.m. The early morning voice was what he called it. Calling to him from the darkness. It never brought him panic or concern, after all he lived alone. Too much time alone can leave one with the depths of their subconscious which is often unsettling.  He simply did what anyone would do. Getting up he checked his phone where he had left it the night before, laying face down on the floor still charging. Even in the light of the lamp his phone showed a blinding white. He squinted at the sight but the time showed clearly 3:48 a.m. Unplugging and pocketing it he passed through the doorway into the darkness of the hallway. His mouth was dry begging for the taste of water. He stumbled the length of the hallway and knew he had reached the kitchen when he felt the cold air hit him in the face forcing the sleep from his eyes. 

    His eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness, Jamie found a used glass sitting lonely on the counter by the sink and as his hands found the faucet, he flipped it on. He watched in silence as his glass quickly filled, then raised it to his parched lips.

“Jamie.”

    Startled, the glass fell from his hand into the sink, shattering on impact. Sending shards of glass scattering over the sink and counter top. Spinning about he looked over the kitchen and into the living room, darkness cutting off his view. Nothing. “Who's there? Show yourself!” He was greeting by nothing but silence once again. Jamie moved to his right, around the corner of the kitchen island reached for the knife set, he withdrew the first blade his fingers found. 

“Jamie.”

The voice echoed from the entryway. It was true this was not the first time the voice had called his name. “I’m tired of this, you are only in my head.”

“Find me.”

    “You are in my head!” he screamed. He wanted to believe it was in his head, but the truth was, he was not sure of anything anymore. The voice called to him. Beckoning him to find, to follow. Every night when he woke he never felt fear of any form. He felt like he was being called. To a purpose perhaps. He stood there in the kitchen, unmoving, unsure what to do in the moment. He knew there was nothing to be fearful of. He was not in danger. Carefully laying the knife down on the counter top Jamie moved around the island working his way towards the entry. He remembered his mother speaking of God, the higher power she chose to place her faith in. The still small voice which called to her, and which in the end took her home to a better place according to his father. Could this be the still small voice his mother spoke of? Gentle and quietly summoning him to a greater, higher purpose. He reached the doorway and stretched his hand outwards, grasping the cold metal of the handle he turned the knob gently pulling the front door open. The rush of the cold night air collided with his body sending chills over him. Still barefoot Jamie stepped outside into the night. The grass was wet and the water splattered over his feet with each step. He could feel it, pulling him further from the doorway into the night. 

“Look up Jamie.”

    There was the voice again, he paused standing there in the middle of his front lawn, barefoot and shirtless, barely noticing the cold wind rushing over him, he looked up as the voice in his head commanded. The sky above him seemed to be illuminated in a shimmering light and this light shown down about him engulfing him in an array of heavenly luminescence. And the voice in his head seemed clearer, filling his mind with words of knowledge. Jamie covered his ears, gripping his skull with both hands, eyes wide with terrified wonder. Screaming for the voice in his head to calm. Begging for it to end. But the light was unashamed and accepted this offering  forcing him to his knees surrounding him in the agony of its unceasing voice of knowledge. 

    Jamie woke. His naked body covered soaked from head to foot in a cold sweat as if he had awoken from a terrible dream. A vision from a nightmare. He tossed the comforter to the side and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The digital clock of the night stand clearly read 3:50 a.m. He looked toward the open doorway to his bedroom. Darkness blocked his view into the hall. He stood to his feet and stepped to the doorway. He could see clearly despite the darkness and entered the kitchen. He looked to his left and saw the entryway door to be ajar. He knew what he had to do. He walked to the island and found the knife to still be on the counter. Gripping the blade in his fists he walked to the living room and approached the wall. Then digging the tip of the blade into his wrist he watched as his blood poured from the wound. Taking his right hand and dipping his fingertips into the blood pouring from his wrist he began to paint the wall frantically. He moved as he plastered the wall before him in his own blood. Then he stopped pausing as if to look at his completed work. Then he picked up the knife once more and raised the blade to his own throat and cut deeply. Blood gushed down, flowing over his fist and down his chest. He collapsed to the carpeted floor of the living room surrounded in a quickly increasing pool of blood. The wall above him read clearly. 

I have seen the future and I fear for our souls.