He didn't want to open his eyes.
So familiar he was to the piano that it was an extension to his body, he could play in his sleep if he so desired.
Fingering the bones of the keyboard, the shadowed figure let his hands drift along until it felt right to stop. He would linger, teasing the notes as though they were alive before pressing down.
The hum of the instrument could consume him, warp around the corners of his mind. It's lull was so hypnotic it would often hold him hostage for days, though he held steady through sheer force and will power.
With a mind of their own, his fingers spurred into action, playing a haunting tune- straight from the darkest crevices of his soul. The music bled from within him, pouring out into the skies.
Music, manipulated correctly, had the power to influence a persons emotions. Through music, a mortal could induce tears, bring out lust— terrify a person in the correct circumstances. On the flip side, one could find peace and solace in a beautiful song.
It took knowledge and power to understand how to force this to your will, and though he was notorious for his creativity to cause pain and suffering, he left space in his heart when it came to music. For music he would choose mercy.
Every day, for an eternity, billions of souls would rot away in the pits of hell, craving for peace. The sadist in him took perverse pleasure in the suffering of others, but despite his black soul, he would allow them this small act of kindness.
Every midnight, the songs he would play would raise the dead for a brief moment. Across the world souls would return to earth and dance in the land of their dwellings, a few minutes of peace, a striking contrast to the flames that waited for them to return in the underworld.
No song was ever the same, each original and unique to the moment.
That night he poured his spirit into the humming instrument, listened to her echo his woes across the human world. He could feel the threads of human souls pass through the chasm, escape to the graveyards and drift in a state of meloncholy to his song.
A song invented within that very moment that told a story with every rushed or lingering sound. It was about his demise and abandonment. It began with a simple light hearted melody, burying darker chords that would foreshadow what was to come.
It took his mind elsewhere, to a different time. Where peace was ever present and he didn't know pain.
A time where he was once beautiful. Beguiling. Where golden locks would frame his face like a crown and he had orbs of sunlight for eyes. When a honeyed glow adorned his skin.
He released a resigned sigh.
Now there wasn't a single person beyond this repugnant world that didn't hate him. As his thought process changed, the melody darkened.
The victors had twisted his story and turned him into a monster, and over time he fed the narrative and gave what little was left of his morality to the expectations.
The muscles in his jaw clenched as he craned his neck to dark chasm above, hands turning into a furious blur against the keyboard. The tune turned into something furious and passionate.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Let Them Catch You
Paranormal"When the stars retreat, and the moon bleeds blue. When love bows to a pure soul, free of vengeance, and hatred and sorrow," his words were ushered, as if he were telling her a secret, "Is when I'll be with you." At the time, Aura didn't understand...
