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Previously on Listening For That Sweet Tune:
The lighthouse has never been
this cold before; I thought this as I gasped for air from where I was sitting.
I rolled over from my makeshift bed to look outside to my right. I could see
the moonlight and waves crashing on the nearby beach. I grunted as I tried to
get up moving the several blankets off of me and I looked around. My friend was
in another room doing god knows what but I’m sure it was more warm than here. I
could only wish for the best for him.
Like nights in the past the
room was flooded with moonlight, bouncing off every wall and the hardwood floor
I was laying on. There was a window exactly in front of me and like always
there was a view of the ocean, the bay, green. I loved this house I wanted to
live here forever, I just wish it had some damn heating. I could only wonder who
made this place. If the people who left this place for reason, then again they
didn't leave much of anything behind other than the house itself.
It was quiet, but it felt
like home. Hearing nothing but the roaring ocean all around me and then something
happened. It happened so quick I didn’t know what it was till I started to
think about it. A object—appearing to be pitch black but in all reality it most
likely had a tone—came up to the glass door in front of me. Flew into
literally, but it still was there. It had wings. It had the stance of a man but
the glory of something else. I rubbed my eyes and I smacked my cheek to make
sure I wasn’t seeing anything that wasn’t really there but when I came to it
was still there. Staring with an indecency to ask for it to come in, burning
holes in the sides of my head.
It felt like I was going
insane—was I? The Wretched. He has finally come back to visit me to take my
soul--everything I have seen points to it. I was speechless, I couldn’t say
anything—what would I say? The Wretched just stood there, minding its own
business not even noticing that it has caught my attention, just staring
through my window.
I felt chills continuing down
my spine, I began to remember something—felt like déjà vu—but I don’t remember
any specifics or even how old I was. But what stands out is what I saw. It was
a morning—not like this, it had more light. We were in a hotel twenty somewhat
flights above the ground. Rain was pounding on the wall that was primarily a
window and it thundered like a bat out of hell. But I woke up to nothing. I
looked around from my hotel bed to see a dark room. I got up and bumped around
looking for the window so I could move the heavy cloth drapes that were
preventing all light from entering the room.
I felt around for the string
that moved the drapes but I found none. I sighed and I crawled from in between
the drapes and the window, the city was way to big for a child to understand. I
stood in awe pushing my face against the glass examining how high I was, I felt
like I was on top of the world. Then there was a noise, subtle at first but
then it grew to be a clamor ringing in my head. I looked to my right to see
what it was but the drapes were so close to the window I couldn’t see no more
than an inch in front of me. I pushed through, trying to find the sound that
could halt the very time and space and then I saw her.
Beautiful and tragic all at
once, she was wearing a white dress, looked no older than thirteen. Long black
hair flowed down past her shoulders and her skin was almost whiter than the
dress. I couldn’t help but notice her smudged and washed away mascara all over
her eyes, nose and cheek. She was crying, fear was in her cold blue eyes—what
was happening? I started to stumble backwards and what felt like an eternity
was only mere seconds. She cried more, still standing still and staring at me,
then blood. A thin straight blood trail formed next to her left ear down to her
neck around and up to the other ear—like someone slashed her throat. She cried
more as the incision got deeper and deeper, blood flowing down her dress
ruining what it once was. At that moment I soon would realize that she wasn’t
even there.
I screamed and turned sharply
to only find myself getting more and more tangled in the drapes. Eventually
turning a one hundred and eighty degree angle to see the crying girl, but she
looked more dead this time. Her hair was grey, her skin was torn her eyes were
hateful—I had to puke. I turned another 180 to become more tangled and all noise
stopped, I listened carefully and no sounds came about. I turned around to see
her a solid red and black and those eyes—oh those ice cold eyes—were staring at
me like she was taking my soul. She smiled; she was demonic.
I fell to the floor
untangling everything around me and I crawled from underneath the drapes and I
ran to the other side of the dark room. The drapes moved and swayed till they
were perfectly flush against the window. Looking quietly at the drapes I
realized I was sweating like I entered the seventh circle of hell. A light
compression pushed towards me and I felt like I was getting swallowed, I lost
my breath and I lost consciousness.
The rest of the story is
difficult to explain because it was like a dream. I found myself all dressed
up, older, and surrounded by sad, weeping people. I was at a funeral—I knew it,
I could feel it in my gut. I was in the center of the crowd, I looked behind me
and there were crowds of people further than I could see—who was this for? This
lifelike vision seemed like seconds but in real life it was far from it. I woke
up in a fright, but I was disillusioned in my present surroundings. I was in a
bed that wasn’t mine and in a room that wasn’t familiar. The walls were painted
green while the few pieces furniture in the room was a dark brown.
The windows to my right were
open but the bamboo blinds were over the window—they were waving in the wind.
The same creature stood in front of me looking exactly the same as it does now
and I could only think, “What are you?” And then, nothing.
I looked at this creature
presently in front of me and I could only wonder why this has manifested itself
to me. It looked like what the black figure has been several times earlier but
different. Like this was another one, this one had a different personality. It
has been weeks since I had contact to another person, maybe I was just seeing
things, and maybe I just lost my sense to reality. Maybe and just maybe, even
though I felt even livelier than I ever have I had the feeling that even though
everything seemed real I just might be dead.
Up next in Listening For That Sweet Tune:
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