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Melodic MachinationsThe figure of a Castle juts against a dark landscape. Layers of black clouds paste themselves like backdrop in the night sky, an irradiated blue shining through the rare cracks between. It's too dark to see, but a brittle crunch attributes each step I take closer to my destination.
I'm drawing nearer, but a rhythmic shaking through the ground causes me to hesitate. I think to myself, 'Do not hesitate. Hesitation only leads to death.' I look up to what's drawing me to this place; more mechanical than stone, the tarnished steel clockwork of the abode slowly turns. Each click of a gear creates the beat of the tremors I felt coming here. There's no more fear in me.
As I start to stride forward, a quick flash like lightning pierces through the translucent clock face, revealing the ancient skeletons below me that make up the terrain. A slow, deep chiming of the hour plays as I start to smile. Each monotone note beckons me to come, and with each strike the smile broadens to a grin.
My last th
Body Breaking Bossanova"Get up, Nick!"
I feel the constant drumming of raindrops slowly rousing me with every tiny smack to my face. Where am I? I can't see anything.
"Get up, Nick."
I strain to open my eyes. My vision starts to clear and I see the solid shield of grey; the first verbal thought only being "The Sky."
"You have to get up, Nick"
My body feels heavy, as if I'm drowning in my surroundings. My first attempt to move ends in failure with nothing receiving their signals. Instead I try to breathe; at first the inhales are sharp like breathing in glass but gradually become smoother.
"Nick, you have to get up!"
I roll over and start to push myself up. I notice my hands covered in that familiar crimson, though brighter than usual. Whose voice is that?
"Nick, get up," my own voice startling me. I hear a chuckle then realize it came out of my own mouth.
Once I get up I find my leg not working and my right hand crippled, its fingers sprawled in different directions like frayed rope. Still clutching the plas
Of Dreams and DemonsI hear the phantom sounds of a piano, it's melody somber, further deepening the mood of the dimly lit hall. Numerous candles cast a bronze glow against the pillars and nearby but fails to penetrate futher into the darkness of the vast room.
The music stops, and from the abyss I hear course voices mumbling demands to play. I look down to find I'm dressed in a black suit and white collared shirt. Buttoned to my cuffs are unfamiliar symbols, and my shoes look highly expensive: gold buckles against black leather.
After the quick inspection of my attire, I look to my left and find a piano that wasn't there before. The disembodied voices urg me to, "Sit and play. Yes, play." I take my seat and rest my hands on the ivory keys. On reflex my fingers play the same somber song that lilted through the expanse before. As I play I can see dim shadows shifting at the edge of the light. Several pairs of bright eyes peer at me, and as I continue to play, more seem to join and watch. I make out the irre
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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