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Previously on Listening For That Sweet Tune:
I stood over my body with immaculate
perfection bloody and scarred as I once was. I looked down to how weak I was
and I felt sick to the core. What is the point of a body if you could become a
Wretched? Weak and torn as all people are. To become powerful amoung all means
and there is nothing to hold you back. How pathetic I was once but now I
am.
I began to walk forward looking around
for Lana and there she was. Hovering over me for hundreds of feet looking down
to me but she was not alone. She carried a woman with her in her arms and she
had just let go. The woman screamed as she approached the ground but everything
happened to quick. She hit the ground legs first and bones splintered out of
her knees. She screamed with agony as I walked up to her she begged to let the
pain to stop. Did I have empathy for this woman? Not a single day passed when I
was me that I didn't look to help others but here I was.
Crouching down I put my hand on her
shoulder as if I was to comfort her but my body stood motionless. A part of me
wanted to help this poor woman but that part was dwindled to a tiny speck now
and I did not know if I could be that way anymore. I searched for my compassion
as I looked deeply into her eyes and I guess she saw kindness. She began to cry
and thank me but I knew not of what she was talking about. I was to do nothing
to ease her pain because I felt nothing for her or this situation.
I got up to walk away and she began to
cry even harder. As I continued to walk down the road she wailed for help
hoping that I would come back but I did not. Moments later she would bleed out
onto the dirty street and become one like me or even Lana. No more no less. She
would become just another pawn in the great plan and that would be that. She
would suffer from no more pain, she wouldn't even remember pain. Her body will
lay motionless and it will decompose like the rest.
Lana floated across the city—above my
head—and looked for remaining survivors. I followed underneath her looking into
houses to see if anyone was hiding. I kicked a door open to reveal a small room
with a dirt covered wooden floor and red painted walls. Directly in front of me
I could see into the kitchen but nothing was there. White walls, white lights,
white cupboards a white tile floor and a semi white table in the center. I left
the kitchen and looked down the hall to my left. There were three doors here—one
to the right, one to the left and one directly in front of me at the end of the
hall.
I began to walk down the hall and placed
my hand on the first door—the one to my left—and just before I was able to
twist the knob I heard a slight whimpering coming from the end of the hall. I
ignored the door that was in front of me and walked down the hall till I
reached the last door. Just then I heard footsteps behind me and there she was,
Lana in all her glory. Barefooted and dirty she continued to walk down the hall
I was in and placed her hand on the other side of the whimpering door.
Lana swung the door violently open to
show a children's room. Two bunk beds several craft tables and a scared family
huddled down in the far corner to our left. It was a father and his three
children. Suddenly the father got up from the floor and rushed down the wall to
his right and tried to open the window. Pushing it up as fast as he could it
stayed in the closed position so he began to hit it. Punching a hole in the
glass the man pulled his arm back in the room showing to him that it was
covered in blood.
Lana began to walk towards him slowly as
something glowing appeared in her palms as she raised them in front of her. The
man was scared and tried to open the window again but it was too late. Lana
grabbed the man’s hand and he fell to his knees and just then I heard it. It
could have been going on a while now but I had only just begun to pay attention
to it.
Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov created a
symphonic suite in 1888 titled Scheherazade. It was composed into four
movements and movement three—The Young Prince and the Young Princess—was
beginning to take form through the air. Loosing my attention towards Lana and
the poor family I looked up into the corners of the room spinning in circles
trying to figure out where it was coming from. Momentarily I realized that so
were Lana and the family but I could only figure that they were looking for
something because I was looking for something not because they could hear the
sweet music as well.
I ran outside tripping over furniture
while getting dust all over my knees. As I got back to my feet I looked around
and the fog was thicker than ever. I looked down to see the ground but I
couldn't even catch a glimpse of it. Looking around trying to figure out where
the sun was all I could see was a slight bright light surrounding me. The music
turned up in volume and it seemed to push the fog away. I then could see down
the street and see he houses—which were all still on fire. I heard a crash
behind me so I turned around quickly to see that the father of the little
children was thrown through the window and the children began to scream. I
walked towards the father slowly to see that his ears were missing along with
his tongue, he was of course now dead.
Up next in Listening For That Sweet Tune:
Remember me
