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Thursday, June 14, 2012

Listening For That Sweet Tune-Chapter 9: The Tower of No End and The Beasts Within. Pt. 1

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Previously on Listening For That Sweet Tune:

It didn't take a single thought more for me to continue my fast pace forward into the front lawn of the villa. I knew where the man went; there was not a single doubted thought within my head. You can call it curiosity or maybe even stubbornness but after all of these times that I have that same hooded figure, I only wanted answers—I knew this person had all of them. Strange lights, black corrupting vines, a hooded figure, a child, a vacant city, a black monster and the strangest of all, some sweet tune. 

All of these—and many more—events continued to bang within my head giving me headaches without reason. Questions can only be solved with more questions and with all this in mind, I could only feel satisfied but anxious at the same time. I felt just fine knowing all of these strange things but till I find an answer I will only be looking for more to ruin me. With all of that said, the sweet tune is what worried me the most. I don’t know why I call it that or even how it relates to me but it feels like it rules my mind. I hear it and all I can feel within myself is. Violence and anger yet, that makes me feel whole, the most satisfied I have ever felt in my entire life. I hear it and it talks to me. It tells me:

'You are listening; you are listening for this sweet tune. You crave it and it completes you. It gives you a home to live in, it grants you permission to live, it is your soul and you will abide to it till the day you die, that is when you finally become whole. Breathe it in, believe, this is your sweet tune.'  

I am listening for that sweet tune, it makes me feel good but sick at the same time, it is heaven and hell all the same. Listening to myself I could only think that I was indoctrinated to some being will but this was my own thought. I think it therefore it doesn’t exist. 

I was at the top of the knoll now. Looking down to the bottom was the entrance of the large building, which seemed to go on forever and behind it, some tower of no end. It. Of tinier up to the sky till I couldn't see it anymore. If you can't see the end, does it ever stop? An average man would say yes but witnessing this in all it's glory, I couldn’t even contemplate the meaning of an 'ending'. It became something like foreign language within my mind like I lost all sense to what was up and only now knew the meaning of down and nothing else. It was ridiculous to think about but with every hastening step I believed only more.

I was now at the base of the hill but before I crossed the row of various flowers and bushes I noticed two of them were rather torn up and partially stomped in within the ground. One of which was a small bush of white roses but the other being a lesser known but notorious to many. The other set of flowers are known as euphorbia milii or more commonly the crown of thorns. The name implies directly to what many will think and it is widely accepted that this plant was the crown of thorns on many martyrs—the most common being a Jesus Christ.

I examined both plants for only a short period of time to notice that a trail of blood followed from these plants to the front door. The man I was pursuing must have stumbled through these plants and received the cuts that they had to offer—a turn of bad luck if you ask me. I now knew that I could follow his trail with ease within the building before me but I currently could only feel a concern to these poor plants.

I looked to the white roses to only see one more stem and flower still hanging high with hope for better days. Looking closer to it I noticed a light spray and a few drops of blood on top of one side of it. It was a beautiful tragedy—something very few can express their condolences to. It was beauty at the stake, the love of a dying breed, happiness in a form of worthlessness and I wanted to become apart of it. I reached out my hand to the rose and twisted the stem it was on a fort or so down from the pedal. I had a handful of thorns but with a beauty like this, I could care less—the pain couldn't phase me. After a few more twists, a snap, and the tragedy was now within my fingertips. 

I briskly walked up to the door to the mansion like structure; the door was a solid wood that towered up to seven to eight feet high. I looked back down to the blood-trail to make sure that the blood did in fact head to the door but the blood from my hand now commingled with the rest. I put my ear against the door to see if I could hear anybody inside and to my surprise, there was.

I heard screams, screams from men and women but not just some ordinary screams; they were screams of anguish and pain. There was not a single quiet moment, the screams continued without end and in a desperate attempt to face my maker; I turned the old brass handle to swing the door wide open. It was no more than a fraction of a second of the door being open before the screams stopped abruptly. It was quiet; I stood at the doorframe looking within the house with a rose in hand, I was truly just a stranger in a strange land.

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