Listening For That Sweet Tune-Chapter 21: The Strangest Of Men Pt. 1

STOP

Have you read the preceding chapters?

If not then read it from the beginning

or

Read the preceding chapter...

Go to the beginning:

Chapter 1: A Simple Beginning

Previously on Listening For That Sweet Tune:

Chapter 20: A Peculiar Fellow

Since everything began and started spinning into motion I have heard and seen things that are not normal to a typical person. The only question that I can't help but ask is if these things are really happening or if I am really just crazy. I could really have just been imagining all these things and been doing them to myself in some manner or form. I'm not stupid. I can normally tell if something is for real or fake but when I think about this situation entirely; what is really happening and what am I mistaking to think to be true?

But then I think about the voices, they tell me to do things and till now I never noticed them. Have I always been like this? I'm sure Serenity would know but I would need to find her first. The voices started talking to me again. Some were whispers and then some were in normal tones; men, women and children. They talk amoungst themselves as if I wasn't here and other times they tell me to do things and I have listened. One in particular hums a slow upbeat song in his deep low voice, it sounds amazing—what is that song?  I've heard it before, I know I have—it keeps flowing around in the wind. Itches kept scratching from under my skin and I dug at it nearly immediately—feels like little bugs and insects. 

After a few minutes of thinking I looked back up to the young man who was sitting in the living room. He sat up straight with his legs crossed while thinking intently about the severed hands in front of him; moving them back and forth into stacks and lines as if he was playing a card game. He may have well been doing this for a few days now—I could tell because he had a rather short beard growing upon his face. He didn't even look up from what he was doing and he started to talk to me. 

'You know you can scare someone if you sneak up on them like that.' I stood motionless staring at the man a while longer. 'Did you hear me?' I cleared my throat

'Yes. Yes I heard you.'

'Good.' I could hear him smile with his back turned to me. The sound of saliva moving mostly gave it away. 'What?' he asked. Before I had the chance to answer him he responded, 'Be quiet!' For a second I thought he was talking to me but then I noticed that he was talking to himself, he continued. 'No. I shouldn't. He hasn't done anything wrong. Why?' He peeked over his shoulder for a second showing me his bright green eyes. 'He does look tasty.' I gasped to myself and took a few steps back as he was playing puppets with the hands in front of him. 'You're not leaving us are you? Come back we want to play as he turned around to look at me.

Blood. Blood covered his face as he smiled at me revealing his small soft white teeth. I felt as if I was staring at the face of evil, then again, if I decided to look at a mirror instead, I wouldn't look any different. I could only guess that was human blood around his mouth and only moments ago the same thing was around me but why did I feel so cautious? Yes he did say that he wanted to eat me but he was skinny, I could overpower him easily if I wanted to. Maybe it was a lingering evil that I felt around him but putting myself in his shoes I would see the same exact person. 

'You and I are the same you know?'

'Oh?' he replied.

'It only felt like a moment ago. I was chewing on the neck of another man and I loved it.' I was only telling the truth but deep down, it could have even been the truth.

'You are nothing like me!' He yelled and spat all over the place. 'You look all clean in your fancy clothes in your nice warm home. I should kill you right now!' While he was pointing at me with a severed hand, I took a few steps towards him with my arms raised showing him my palms. 

'I'm not here to judge you. You're welcome in my home.' Which was a lie. 'I think if you would hear me out, you would find that out yourself.'

'Go on.'

'I have killed too. Several times. You are not alone; there are other people like you closer than you think. Someone you can be yourself around and not worry about any judgment or skepticism.' He raised his eyebrows in approval. 'The only thing I can ask for in return is you to help me on finding some people.' He grinned at me again.

'I'm good at that.'

'I bet you are. Can you help me?' He thought for a few seconds and nodded back at me. He began to get up and I noticed that he was sitting in a pool of blood, then took out his hand to shake mine. Even though his hands were covered in blood—like the rest of his body—I didn't mind shaking his hand as I gripped his firmly. It was as if we were now bound in blood to work with another but before I had the chance to let go his mouth lunged towards my hand in a desperate attempt to bite my hand clear off.

Up next for Listening For That Sweet Tune:

Chapter 21: The Strangest Of Men Pt. 2

Remember me

Cant Stand It, So What Is Sin?

Reverberating attracting 

through my vocal chords

I cant say who will win.

Now that the pendulum is dark,

and is crushing the fringe,

I can only think 'What is sin?' 

So many things are justifiable,

I know there is plenty.

As if you can do it once or twice.

But if you did it in the presence,

of those less accepting,

then you are surely a sinner.

I have these thoughts through days,

I keep them to myself,

because I know you wont accept them today.

But if I were in a situation,

of the less fortunate,

I could surely sway the weight.

I can’t say that is right,

but its how people see it,

so I can do it once or twice.

But I know if you catch me,

before you are ready,

then you will know my true vice.

It pulses my veins,

plays my heart like a chord,

it even excites me from time to time.

But my mind is so heavy,

I can’t keep my hands steady,

surely something will fall under this knife.

Is that all we are,

some miraculous thing,

that knows what is right and wrong?

I say no,

you don't have the pressure 

and you surly haven't lived my life.

I don’t feel so queasy 

when I do something not easy,

and make some actions so brash.

Instead I embrace it,

not try to erase it,

and suck it for everything it has.

I could be the devil, 

or maybe a saint,

it might just depend where your from.

But when you see me,

when my life isn't easy,

just make sure your on the side I am on.

Remember me

So Dark Is The River

Tell me you are something,

I can whisper my sweet nothings, 

in the pit of the ear of my love.

So I can tell you all the things that I love.

Like my dreams, my sorrow and the sun.

Speaking bout my sorrow

I am waiting for the morrow, 

bringing me all the gifts from the sea.

Let the poets slowly cry till they sleep

Let the villains simply prey on the weak.

You cannot ever stand in my way.

You know I want this,

but I needed some sleep.

I wish I'd feel greater,

but now I am so weak. 

Tonight I feel like, 

I'm on top of the world.

If I had a miss, 

how would she feel?

She would be my sweetie,

it feels so damn real.

Situations now are getting fragile and thin,

I have a bullet now,

it lies right under my skin.

Can you hear this message?

I know that you are there.

This sound drives me insane,

tell me life is not fair.

I can hear this screaming,

as I'm trapped in four wall. 

I try to be a savior,

even though I am wrong.

I know that you can hear this, 

though its simply a thought.

I tried to clean the wreckage

but it's all that I got. 

The light of my life,

can be wrote our into song. 

Can you take out the knife?

Tell me that nothing is wrong. 

She will mend all our hearts,

wrap me in her two white wings. 

She can sing me to sleep,

as she moves me away. 

So dark is the river,

that holds our hearts,

the river that plays, 

all our hearts strings to the tune.

So I am not lost in this room,

tomorrow will be too soon. 

I try to stand and speak easy,

while I have the attention of the city,

Even though I know it's not right. 

As the poets slowly cry till they sleep.

Letting all the villains prey on the weak.

You cannot ever stand in my way.

You know I want this,

but I needed some sleep.

I wish I'd feel greater,

but now I am so weak. 

Tonight I feel like, 

I'm on top of the world.

If I had a miss, 

how would she feel?

She would be my sweetie,

it feels so damn real.

Remember me

The Child: Entry 32

STOP

Have you read the preceding chapters?

If not then read it from the beginning

or

Read the preceding chapter...

The Beginning:

Prologue 

Previously on The Child:

Entry 31

In a lifetime not to long ago there laid a vast secluded desert of droughts and rough terrain. Although being barren and tasteless, people who lived around the land looked towards the desert for something new that they could put into their lives to fill the void that was within their hearts. It was as if a godly hand waved to people outside of the land inviting them to come within and enjoy its fresh fruits but there was none yet, everything that people had ever wanted sat before them.

Outsiders were never exactly sure on why the first people decided to settle within the wasteland but as the time passed countless others soon began to follow as a feeling of attraction pushed them forward into the great unknown. A rather large village was soon established thereafter and it became a common ground to those who wandered off within, offering shelter from sandstorms and starvation the people became one with another to create a community that could survive through the harsh times. 

There was never a want of something else with the people who began to settle, like a magnet to metal was their bodies to the sand, intertwining with everything that was around them and once the first cornerstones were placed, everything flourished. Within the ground they dug, villagers found underground aquifers of pure water to suffice anyone who was thirsty which soon helped the ground to become fertile and trees and grass began to sprout of the ground. It was as if this was taken out of a children's tale; no one could believe in what they were seeing before their own eyes. Several years passed and founding villagers began to die off, new generations were made but when everything turned right a strange noise appeared itself.

First to older members, soft whispering voices of the unknown talked to everyone who settled in this small town. People grew irritated to the constant sounds and buzzing of words within their heads and townsfolk began to bicker amoungst another until one faithful day that everything turned into legible words and everyone knew that this was what they were searching for and took an oath and sworn in secrecy to prevent any outsiders of knowing their great messages. 

By this time the village was no longer a collection of people but backgrounds and family's that knew everyone else within the town. Within the voices and the family is what created the vast structure of what held the small population together to turn into a successful place. Notable families such as The Rita's and The Fairfax's held together a connection of stability between the community and the cult but separated a solid structure from each other due to the two families separate opinions—like the same old fashioned family feud that was between 'The Capulet’s' and 'The Montague’s'. As the governmental families focused on there own agenda, many others existed throughout the poor dusty village. The Hellerbroigas' pushed on a growing topic known as 'industry' as 'The Vespesiano's focused on the community as a whole. But 'The Delacroix's' were left with a very sensitive matter that brought everyone together to keep all vendettas and bad blood at bay.

Religion. I moaned with regret having to talk about such a topic but knowing my own past relatives dwelled on such a topic frequently I could only be inclined to learn further. The voices became the center point of the town and was the exact thing for their own faith so it would only make sense for them to worship it but as the days passed the voices grew to have a bidding in which people could only feel inclined to do exactly as it said. The Delacroix's turned to be more sensitive to the voices than the others so—with the help of the voices—they created a religious structure that everyone agreed to abide by. The head of each family was a member of the religious order that received specific messages from the dark unknown. 

These people—commonly known as the Coram Morte—talked to the voices and responded appropriately to their bidding with the overseeing council of the remainder of the Coram Morte and higher prestigious members. The religious structure that they formed within the great halls of their churches remained identical throughout the years. No off the wall religion deviated from the mother strain because there was an undeniable truth that laid the framework on which everything was created—though there were different theories on how it should be practiced.

Their god however, seemed to be more real and concrete than most peoples that you see today even though that it was just an embodied voice. People soon after began to be weary of the Coram Morte and with the voices they received due to the violent nature that was posing itself to the other members but the skepticism didn't last long due to a strange but monumental finding. 

There was a wreckage just a few miles outside the village, one of unknown origin but it held various artifacts that were very dear to the ones of the villages religion. One of which-- eing a rather small box—laid upon my lap, strange, ticking and made with such intrinsic design that no possible way could it be made by unsettled human hands. The box is said to be made of rare wood that even an axe struggled to penetrate, gears within the contraption that rotated like clockwork that were rumored to be made of the bones of the human kind and strange metal doors covered the top of the box to close everything within. The crafts-work being so precise and symmetrical that it may have just been made by a machine. An awe was given from all who looked at it and a spiritual change to those who held it. 

Everything was unsure if the box stood for humanity or something else but once more pieces of the box were found, everyone's view changed. 'This will cleanse our souls and make us whole and pure again.' Claimed the Coram Morte. It was the source of the voices, it was the very thing that held the universe together, it was the very reason for what we simply are. A peaceful violence consumed the people, they wanted to be one with the universe and with the box, and everything became possible. The church soon became the pinnacle of the town and it grew in size through those who were attracted to it like an infection. Ceremonies started every morning for those to become 'Immaculated' amoungst their peers. Within the church was a large black and thin spire pointing up to the sky and in front of the spire was a small podium to place the box directly to the left and right of the spire laid a concrete beds—much like one would put a body on in a mausoleum but longer and closer to the ground.

People sat on the beds to begin the process of 'Immaculation'. Near black roots exited the box to engulf those who were around it as they were being torn apart. It was as if it took the people apart just to put them back together to become perfect in nearly anyway. Immortality became possible as the current stages that the people were in were now how they would live forever and everything seemed almost to perfect.  

Up next in The Child:

Entry 33

Remember me