“The red violin grew hot. It started to emit a small glow in the dark, empty space. Its glow filled the cemetery with an eerie light. It was as if the light itself read the names and breathed into them.

  “As I hit the crescendo to my song, the stone rumbled and the ground began to part. The bodies began to rise. These bodies were not empty, though. No, they were filled with my haunting hatred. They were animated with the sole intention to purge, to make a clean world for my family to return to, to have the dead unravel that which pretends to be alive.

  “The shambling of death rose with my song and moved with my intention. The tone was clear: snuff out all that false light from this town and make no longer their lie of life possible.

  Truth, seldom said, more oft’ lost

  Innocents play in shadows

  at a perilous cost

  Music moves beyond all spaces

  darkness bridges all worlds.

  It’s unclear what’s real

  While sound decorates time

  For some, it’s a lifeline

  A radical departure from ideal

  With clear instruction

  And blatant direction

  My endpin toward my neck

  Chin rest to my chin

  I almost heard them laughing

  Or dad playing piano

  Nearly felt myself smiling at one of his jokes

  I almost saw my mother

  Her eyes angelic lights

  But then I thought of those damned townsfolk

  The bridge of darkness provided

  A means to their end

  And guided my way unmarred

  Directly to the graveyard

  The song carried my tormented affliction

  Possessing all spirits in its jurisdiction

  Like a pillar of fire scorching the sky

  I fueled my anger’s rise

  And so too did the dead re-materialize!

  “The horde meandered toward the town at a slow and steady pace, but as they approached the first house, they became more ferocious. They were raving mad like dogs by the time they reached the door. They tore it down with no regard for their own safety. I could hear it from outside in the street.

  “Inside the house, I heard the screams of surprise and agony. Then they faded into garbled, wet noises, and the horde walked out, moving to the next house. I noticed with them a few extra members. First, it was slow, but as their numbers grew, I knew it would only be a matter of time. The ripping and tearing and brutalizing of the city made manifest through my design. “Through my song, hatred would no longer rule the empty night. After this, my family would come home, and there would be blissful silence waiting for them. A quiet town of empty houses and empty streets, no longer waiting to feed the dark hunger.

  “Like cattle, I drove them from their homes. I couldn't take it anymore; their stench of life was too foul. I could feel my rage slipping, my power fading, and I knew this would be my final note in this mass exodus that is life.

  “I brought down my bow; the horde, with their hungry mouths opened, continued consuming. The final music faded into the night sky as the screams replaced my masterpiece. All was right, and as the last scream drifted into a garbled silence, my anger dissipated. The fire in me was stifled. My body went cold. My vision went black. My mind fell into stillness.

  “Cold. The cold earth was the first thing I felt. Blurry images of the night prior played in my mind. My world swam. I choked out my first breath. My fingers still gripped the violin. The blood had dried and had glued my hand to the instrument. I opened my eyes as I began to come to.

  “The night sky was full of stars, and I could only hear my own breath. The silence I wished for had been created. I was lying at the bottom of the steps of my family's home. Lying out on the steps was one of my faithful corpses. I guess he delivered me here as his last act of will.

  “Gathering myself, I felt shaky yet determined. My goal was still incomplete.

  “I stumbled through the halls of my parents' unlit home. The darkness now stretched out all over like thick, pitch-black blankets. I made my way to the basement, and the silence only grew stronger; the thump of my heartbeat in my ears was deafening. The images of the night played back in my head, and my thoughts raced as I got closer to the door: How many people had died? How far did I take my needs? How did my wrath bring such ruin? Would they still love me? Where was my conviction? Where did my desire for death go?

  “I stood at the entrance. The candles had gone out, and it was dark, so I traced my hands on the wall as I walked down the steps, hoping there was still enough wick to begin a new song. As I approached what I thought was a familiar path, I couldn't help but feel my sanity come back to me. The weight of what I had done fully consumed me. I was a murderer, a killer, a monster. All for blissful silence.

  “The shadow’s hunger presented itself as a gnawing, where I felt suffocated. This darkness was long and eternal. As I held whatever space between me and my name inside me, I knew the dark was trying to bridge that gap. To overtake me. To devour me. I felt and finally understood what it was. This darkness was eternal. All shadows were the same, breathed from the same darkness, kissed by the same doom. The bliss of death I desired, made eternal in shadow and dark silence. I was a puppet in a much older thing’s design. Truth bound me, and all I knew faded into the hole in which my very being now lies.

  “The voice of a woman spoke in the darkness.

  “‘All right. That’s enough.’ Her words moved around the darkened space like air bubbles underwater. Sucking in my first breath at the brink of death, my head whipped up looking for her face, hoping it was my mother. But no, it was a woman I had never seen before. She was tall, with blonde hair and a strong, angular face; her eyes were hidden behind a half veil, and she wore a gentle, glowing smile. However, she was dressed in the same kind of black a woman in mourning would wear. She stepped out of the darkness, as if it were ink that would dare not stick to her.

  “‘You’ve had your fill, you old sallow thing,’ I heard her voice, but from all around me, but I watched as her mouth did not move. ‘You have fed on this boy's suffering long enough. My claim on his soul is stronger than yours; you do not get to have him. Release your intrusive space that edges in between himself and identity. Go back now and retreat from here at once.’

  “The bubble around us shrank, threatening to pop, and release us back into the darkness that I was just recently rescued from. I could feel the dark pit in my chest spin, swirling as if it were a writhing tide of scorpions. Digging and stabbing inside me. The woman stood proudly. She hummed with an invisible power. Her words flew out of her mouth this time.

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  “‘You DARE challenge me, and pit your space against mine, against me!?’ she rebuked with all the power of a thaumaturgic boom.

  “Then, as though looking at two images overlapping each other, she raised her hand and snapped while simultaneously catching the sound in her hand. In a small whisper in my mind, I heard her voice tell me to cover my ears. I quickly did so, and I saw her hold out her hand in front of her. She inhaled sharply like a sword cutting through flesh. I watched in glorious awe as she released a command.

  “‘Be gone!’ The words thundered out of her, and she cracked open her hand. The sound of a thousand thunder waves rattled through my chest. Shooting out of her hand and crashing into the being, expanding all around. The force shredded the darkness, pushing it back to somewhere else, leaving me in a room I did not recognize.

  They did my bidding

  And tore through the town

  Consuming and converting

  All who were ‘round.

  As long as I played,

  The bodies were flayed

  Ripped and torn, dismembered, worn

  A truly savage and gruesome display

  As my fire slowly quenched

  Then rose the stench

  Of the wreckage, carnage, and mayhem

  The few survivors screaming

  Convinced me of meaning

  My family’d been avenged by the undead.

  I’d found myself home

  But this time, not alone,

  Instead greeted by the immortal known as Bliss.

  She’d more claim to my soul

  Than the shadow I’d known

  And said to it something like this:

  “You’ve had your fill,

  You sallow thing,

  You’ve fed off his suffering long enough

  My claim over him

  Is far stronger than yours

  Release your hold! Retreat from here at once!

  Be gone!”

  “The room was a warm place. We stood next to a fireplace with one red, wing-backed armchair. The carpet was a deep, rich color with an intricate design of bees and spiders. Behind us, a coffee table was supporting a teacup and the paperweight of a golden spider. Past that, I saw what looked to be the rest of the house. Weathered Victorian walls stretched up to dust-ridden cobwebs. Bookshelves lined the walls, but their contents were left astray on the floor. She spoke again, but this time, smaller, coming again from the corners of the room rather than her mouth.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Y-yes, ma’am,’ I croaked. ‘Thanks to you.’

  “She smiled at me and drew down the veil that was hiding the rest of her face. ‘That’s good, I’m glad I felt you and came when I did. That thing took some real time to bind a claim on you.’

  “My heart wasn’t beating. I couldn’t think clearly. ‘Ma’am, am I dead?’ I asked.

  “She sat down, seemingly exhausted from that previous effort. The conversation paused for a moment as she made herself comfortable. Straightening out her dress before resting her hands, she turned her face toward the fireplace. I wondered what she was thinking as the flames made shadows dance across her veil. I stood at her side and waited patiently. Finally, she addressed me.

  ‘Not quite, but you are closer than you realize,’ she responded. ‘Your soul hangs by one little tiny thread, tied to me, and when the old hunger shadow tried to swallow you up, it pulled on that thread and brought me into your situation fully.’

  “‘You see, the reason why I got involved and stuck a claim on you was because you had touched the power from my mantle as your own, without even knowing it.’

  “She pointed a finger at the fireplace. I saw the flame dance and swell into various shapes. Then it shaped itself into the form of a boy, like me, playing a violin.

  “‘I watched from here and felt you invoke more and more power with true raw talent. Things like that don’t just happen. No, boy, you’re special.’

  “I looked at the fire, unable to feel all the things I knew I should. Grief, anger, rage? None of it came. Instead, a cold, calculated feeling was left.

  ‘What happens to me now?’ I asked.

  “She relaxed into her chair before responding, waving away the flame shapes back into order.

  ‘Now you complete the binding. Give me your name, the one you locked away instinctually against the shadow.’

  “There was a lump in my throat. A tiny bit of feeling surged through my cold body.

  “‘Will I see my mother again?’ I inquired quietly. ‘Or any of my family?’

  “‘Young man,’ her voice now stern, ‘that demon was never going to let you see your family again. It manipulated you, it poisoned your heart against the world around you. Foolishly, though, it was not aware that I would be near. That your true heart would wish for me.’

  “‘I looked down and felt my eyes grow hot. I felt the wetness of tears run down my face. “Then, might I ask, who are you that my heart wished for?’ I managed to say. She stood and addressed me fully, her hands unfolding, and rose to press into the armchair.

  “‘I am Bliss, and who are you?’

  “‘A boy who has nothing left but his violin and his name.’

  “She leaned over and, with a labored breath, she spoke with her own voice, crackled and wispy. I heard her words.

  ‘And what a precious thing that is.’

  Now vacant of darkness

  A fire did blaze

  Alone, the two of us, I was amazed

  In a place unfamiliar

  Ironically just

  The goddess and I began to discuss

  What had transpired,

  What just occurred

  Was because I’d invoked the divine

  I was “special,” she assured.

  Though manipulated by darkness,

  Through lies and deceit

  My soul had been claimed: a “fait accompli”

  I gave Bliss my name,

  And in turn she took me

  From orphaned boy to sheltered refugee.

  Family is everything.

  Which is why I keep them

  My mother, a memory; my father, my beacon

  My precious kin dead

  But certainly not gone

  In reminiscence, they can truly live on

  Through this,

  Our history, our legacy, our tale,

  On my red violin

  Sooo?? What did you think? Pretty wild, right?!

  Please let me know your thoughts!

  ~ CW