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Previously on Listening For That Sweet Tune:
The
apartment looked like it always did but it felt so much more different from
what it was in the past. I sat up from my bed, put my feet on the right—if you
were laying in it—and then I looked out the window that was directly in front
of my gaze approximately five feet from my toes to the walls. It was dark
outside, but not as dark as it can get. I tilted my head to see more out of the
window and I felt threatened by the look the dark treacherous clouds were
looking at me, like they wanted to break through the window and try to strangle
me before I had the chance to look for a rainbow. I’m seeing things again, but
that is becoming a regular thing for me.
I
see ballroom dancing on the ceiling eight feet above my head. If I would just
reach for the ceiling I would touch the romantic dancers enjoying the night of
their lives. So much harmony, so many things that make me feel like I
understand everything about anything I think about now. I shifted my gaze back
up to the ballroom dancers and I looked at the female partner. Her skin was
paler than the whitest linens and even a whiter dress. Her hair was so red I
felt like she was covered in blood but the purity of her dress would never let
anything to stain leaving just the blood on her head—I have to be seeing things.
The dancers spun and twirled through the walls and into my family room—I had to
watch them, something compelled me.
I
got up from the bed and dragged my feet towards the adjacent room. Feels like
my central force of gravity just went up three times the amount more than
Newton’s first law and as I walked into the next room and I fell to my knees
and started to cough aggressively, I couldn't breathe. I fell head first into
the ground directly on my stomach, I used all my might to turn my head any
direction and my neck rotated counter clockwise to have me gaze to my right.
The only thing in my view was my door that led out to the third floor hallway,
I heard movement outside. Subtle at first then I heard a pounding on the door.
I looked at the door then looked to the gap between the door and the floor. At
this moment I felt compelled to clean my floor, with every exhale I take I can
see clumps of dust particles rolling up into a little dust ball and starting to
take the form of some intricate sculpture, but who was behind the door
intrigued me more than the Palace of Versailles could ever do.
The knocking grew progressively louder and I urged to find all my strength just
to move, but I couldn't even budge. I opened my mouth and with all my might I
finally yelled something.
‘Come
in!’ I heard a stir on the other side of the door, the door handle wiggled but
it never opened, then another pound came afterwards. I seem to forget I still
have those genetic traits that will keep the door locked to all who is in the
outside world. I finally positioned my face so I could see between the door and
the floor; I didn't see anything on the other side. As soon as I realized I was
now truly alone, all the force that was holding all my joints down to the floor
raised off of my body. I breathed in deeply confirming that the function of my
lungs never left and got up off the ground and dusted off my body. I wish that
I was OCD too, that would defiantly benefit this apartment and all of its
filthiness.
I
looked around to see if I could find the dancing couple. With the front door in
front of me, my bedroom to the right and the open living room behind me—which I
was practically already standing in. If you placed a straight line from my
front door to my center living room window—which was behind me—you would find
that the layout of my apartment was perfectly symmetrical minus the bathroom—to
my right which is connected to my bedroom--and to my left in the same place is
the kitchen. Two rooms, living room, one bathroom, one kitchen and some haunted
foyer that leads me outside to god knows what and when all was placed in front
of me I realized that my apartment is a perfect rectangle.
Now
this normally wouldn't make a difference but the significance is that I fell
and am currently standing in the exact center of the apartment. What are the
odds? If I want to be precise it would be one in two thousand five hundred and
twelve, due to that being the total square footage of my apartment but I
couldn't say for sure but I need to focus back to the dancing couple. I can see
directly into the kitchen and no one is in there unless if they are hiding in
the cupboards, and if they were doing that I would start to question there
sanity let alone my own. The last place to look was to my left in the other
bedroom. I tried to move as fast as I could due to my recent experience of lack
of mobility and I approached the door in seconds. I gently put my head next to
the door to see if I could hear anything on the other side but I heard absolute
silence.
My
apartment—this town even—has been oddly quiet. I don't know if it has always
been like this—I felt a chill down my spine. All I could hear now was my own
thoughts and now, I don't even know if I can even hear anything. I inhaled
deeply and made the most subtle exhale I could just so I could reassure myself
that I haven't gone deaf, and I haven't. I started to move my hand toward the
door knob then turned it as slow as I could while looking around to make sure
nobody was watching—I don't really know why, but I have always felt that I’m
being watched. The knob was fully turned and then I started to wonder what my
next move would be. Before I wanted any more paranoia kick in I swung the door
open as fast as I could to find the weirdest sight I have seen since I first
left this apartment.
I
never wanted to see such a beautiful couple to be torn apart in the most awful
way I could have ever dreamed. I really wish I could say that I wasn't seeing
anything but this had to be real. Blood, blood in every corner of the room I
can see and the couple is still on the ceiling, floating like they can never be
touched by any evil—it seems like they have though. I couldn't breathe, the
couple was all torn into pieces. I don't think that there was a single body
part that wasn't slashed and broken in one way or another. I could only
contemplate one thing after witnessing this sight and that was what happened?
It was so quiet that I doubt they were, dare I say it, murdered? They just
passed away as if they were just waiting for this to happen. I examined the
ceiling; at it was covered with this crimson liquid. I walked a step in--I had
to see the room in full. I looked into the corner closest to my left and it
seemed that an inner cave wall was forming as if it was becoming a living thing—I
was starting to feel sick.
I
turned around to see a bright light from around the corner to my left and after
a few steps forward I noticed that the front door was unlocked from all its
latches and chains and was propped just like so, so I can see down the hallway
of which, was not my apartment. I looked both ways before I started to venture
across the room just to make sure there wasn’t any oncoming traffic with a thought
to kill, and a knife to complete the thought. I saw no one. I approached the
door and as always as it seems, it looked like the door wasn’t forced open, as
if the individual who opened it was already inside. I shut the door as fast as
I could and upon locking the first safety device on the door I heard a swift
sound of movement on the other side. I looked through the peephole, took a deep
breath and focused into the little hole. Everything looked as it was but
wasn’t. As if the walls were repainted and then I noticed it. It was like I was
like everything was becoming older and turning into a colour tone of faded
brown. I looked away, rubbed my eyes took another deep breath as focused into
the hole again and everything I saw was far from joyful.
Imagine
will you a natural disaster. It can be a flood to a firestorm or even an
earthquake. But whatever happened that split second I had the urge to make sure
I wasn’t delusional, something destroyed the rest of a building to reveal
rubble and a manlike dark figure a few yards from my door-step and before I
knew it a blink later he was only a few inches. The man was tall, the man was
mad, the man was a figment of my own imagination because another blink later, I
saw nothing. I walked away from the door feeling the new found sweat all over
my face and I raised my hand to brush off my brow to see blood covered hands,
my blood covered hands. I looked down to see blood all over my clothes and
footprints from where I stood to the room where the lovely couple rested. I
took a few steps toward the door and I saw a rather large knife hanging out of
the doorframe and through the door as if it was there to keep the door closed.
Upon a closer look, it was covered with blood; I removed the knife from the
door, threw it to the side and opened the door to the guest bedroom.
The
room was clean, the room was spotless, and the room had someone lying on the
floor face down. I walked in—already noticing this individual wasn’t breathing—to
already draw to conclusions. What lay before me was a small child, long hair,
wore a dress then I turned her over. I now know where the blood came from
because every feature that can lie on a face was either missing or mutilated.
Then I realized that through all the insanity filled incisions I noticed who it
was, someone close, someone that I just saw no more of a day ago.
