Conversations with Cut Throats (3 of 3) Pt. 1
"Its the thought that counts. I have only one question to ask you, why will you do it?"
A low red light started to lighten the room as if I was in a dark room. Then a whiter one shown where I was supposed to look towards it was as if they were spotlights telling that the play was going to start. Then I heard it. Very quietly I heard that sweet tune that I have been listening for. I have heard it several times before but I don't know where but here it was before me at this very second. So I listened in, looked toward the stage and I was waiting for the performance to start. Slowly but surely I heard a low dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun. It was becoming louder and louder as the seconds went by right before me I saw that beautiful couple that have shown themselves before me on several other occasions.
The woman from my right the man from my left and they walked towards each other, looked towards their audience--myself--and bowed as if they were on a stage. For the first time ever they were right side up and nothing could have been more real about them. The woman stood there with her hair tied in a bun, an elegant white dress and little white slippers. The man showed a parallel of the exact opposite. Black shirt, jacket, pants and shoes. He had his hair combed back and made to this perfect sheen I could only think they were perfect. Both the man and the woman raised their heads from their bow, took each other’s hands and they prepared for the dance of their lives.
The dun, dun, dun, became even louder than before and I realized it was music. Sweet music to my ears played and played, dun, dun, dun. The couple just moved back and forth and the split second the man got the woman prepared for a twirl the music picked up and I noticed It was a string quartet more specifically a series of violin concertos following the same beat going low then higher and higher and higher then a violin pulled itself from the crowed and did a five second solo. Soon as he was done he continued to join the rest of his peers and the couple twirled and twirled and twirled to create such a majestic flow of harmony and grace and the soloist came in again for another five seconds ending it on a little higher note. The couple twirled and twisted and then the soloist came in a third time playing faster than the ones preceding it for another five seconds ending on this high screech. The other violinists continued with him at this high note of dun, dun, dun, dun, and after a few measures they went low again creating this silence and all hell broke loose.
Soon as the violinists became quieter the couple had a fall. Upon all the twists and spins the man threw the woman several feet away from him. She fell toward the ground sliding across the floor and she lied there motionless and with the beat of dun, dun, dun, duns, the man walked toward her with a sway still as if he was still dancing. He reached behind him--which was what the audience could see--and he took out a knife. The soloist proceeded with a swaying beat to go with the dancer and as the woman reached out to have the man help her up it happened. He thrust his right arm up and stabbed her and the violins picked up in unison with the brutality that was happening before me.
I could only see his back through the event, he was on his knees. With every and each stab I saw the knife became redder and redder, while the same red liquid kept up with the momentum of the knife and flew and sprayed everywhere whenever he raised the knife from the body again. Her white dress became anything but and in the perfect lighting that showing upon her body, her blood stained her dress and it almost turned so black that I could have been seeing the darkness of everyone’s heart seeping out of her body. The violins kept the beat up with his violent acts and when this 'chorus' was playing I finally recognized the song.
Around 1723, Antonio Vivaldi wrote a composition known as 'The Four Seasons'. Within this composition was four parts, starting with spring and ending in winter. What I was hearing was the first movement of the final act of Vivaldi's masterpiece. 'winter’ was defiantly appropriately named to what was happening right now. The coldness of the soul could not have manifested itself any better than what I was seeing. So the man continued, slash, slash, slash, slash, stab, stab, stab, stab and the chorus stopped to hear the soloist continue in this mesmerizing tune and with the beat of everything the man tore, sliced, twisted, bit, broke and defiled every living part that was left of that woman. The chorus then proceeded up again and as if everything wasn't enough before the man raised his knife again and continued with the beat as before.
Muscle and flesh tore into pieces and the knife became so entangled in the chaos that I couldn't even tell if he was still stabbing her with his knife or some other part of her body. The violins kept to the chorus but proceeded to maintain it quieter and lower as the man became more sluggish and he finally stopped, lowered his head and the violins ended to hear nothing but the utter silence of the air and the blood leaving the body of a recent murder victim. The curtains drawn, the lights died out and I stood there in all of the shock that a human could possess in the cold and moist darkness.
I then heard a shuffle behind me followed by a blinding light, lighting up the whole room as if it were day. As the lights turned on I turned around to see 'Father' approaching his last step on the staircase and then to the floor that I was standing on. I looked at his feet and he was standing in a puddle of blood. In fact the entire floor we were standing on was a puddle of blood. I looked around me and bodies laid everywhere as if I was standing in a slaughterhouse--all of which were mutilated to the point of no possible identification. I looked back to where I saw the previous tragic events took place and what was there before, no longer laid there motionless on the ground. What was there was a man; dressed up as all the other men I have seen before with only one cut on his body. His throat was slit and he was holding something in his hand. When I walked closer I noticed it was a close friend of mine, one of the last ones that hasn't been killed, not anymore--I guess there was nothing I could do. As I cried to wish I was more there for him, Father spoke.
'Its the thought that counts. I have only one question to ask you, why will you do it?' I turned around to respond to him but I didn't see anyone. In confusion I looked back to the body that was in front of me and all the blood that was around him and his neck disappeared. All the blood and bodies around the room have all disappeared like they were some sort of delusion but then the feeling of the air changed and my poor deceased friend gasped for air, grabbed onto my arms, looked into my eyes and asked 'why?’
Next up in Listening For That Sweet Tune:
TBA
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