HORROR SHORT STORY: MUSIC...a composer creature tortures...
A little girl sat on a swing in her backyard, swaying back and forth, kicking her small feet with pleasure. The sun beamed down with light, warming the child’s body. The image might’ve reminded one of an idyllic image of domestic comforts. Up and down, she relished the feeling of flight and the soothing motion of the swing. And then, a strange thing began. A sound, a melody, a song began flowing into the air, filling her heart and making her skin tingle with some kind of apprehension. Never before had she listened to such music and was surprised by how it touched her so gently with a song, like a serenade meant for her and her alone. She looked all around her to find the source of the sound but could not see anything out of the ordinary. It was bizarre but she enjoyed the music all the same. She swung up at the sky and noticed something that horrified her. A great, giant, lidless eye stared down at her from the sun. The eye was deep blood red with a single black iris, burning with such strength and inquisitiveness that it sent cold chills through her gut and chest. A deep scream rose through her and she jumped off the swing, sprinted into the house and began crying to her mother. Terrified, she leapt into her surprised mother’s arms, speaking of sounds and someone watching her from the sun. The little girl clung to her mother’s skirt and they walked out together. The girl cringed at the thought of the eyeball and could still hear the lilting sounds that drifted all around her. Her mother looked at her strangely and said that she could not hear or see anything out of the ordinary. The girl tugged at her mother’s skirt and insisted that there was something out there but the mother merely chalked it up to a child’s imagination. The child remained in the house for the rest of the day, too afraid to venture outside again. She attempted to puzzle it all out but found herself flaccid with no way to understand what was happening. Her young child’s mind began to concoct all kinds of possible reasons but none satisfied her. She began to wonder if she was in a dream, where all kinds of madness held dominion over her world. If it was a dream, she hoped desperately that she would wake up soon. When nightfall descended, the girl hid in her bed, too scared to look outside. The moon rose to the heights of the skyline and she could not help but see it from her window. The eye still remained, this time in the moon. The song began again, reaching her even from her bedroom, spreading madness through her mind in such a way that threatened her sanity. She closed her eyes and attempted to sleep but found no peace in the sound of music all around her, within the room, within her mind, within the very air that she breathed. Over and over, the music tumbled in her, mocking her attempt to escape from the sounds. Slowly, the sound of clicking and clacking fell upon her like a sleeting rain, as if trying to communicate in a language so foreign to human speech. Her endurance and ability to maintain sanity in this prison of sound began to waver and on a furious instinct, she swung open the window and began to scream at the moon’s eye. Trembling with both rage and fear, she attempted to defy the otherworldly being. “Leave me alone!” she screamed. The eyeball did not change, its red color disturbed her greatly. Solemn, hostile, cloaked in obscurity, the eyeball chilled her down to the bones. Just what was it? Why was she the only one that could see it? Why did it watch her to this degree? Her small, child’s mind could not comprehend it and all she knew was this feeling of sickness in her gut at the sight. The music seemed to grow louder, pounding in her head like a sack of rocks to the head. She removed the screen of her window and climbed out onto the roof of the house. Screaming, she demanded for the eye to leave her. But then, suddenly, the stars began beaming lights that traveled through space to pierce her on this earth. Wracked with pain and overflowing with light, the girl doubled over and fell to the ground. She writhed in pain and could scarcely believe what was transpiring to her now. A giant human’s hand descended from the sky, sending her scampering and crying out in fear. It grabbed her, each finger the size of many yards. Before she could retreat to her room once more, it lifted her up and took her into the frigid air of space. The girl was lost in the blackness of outer space, still able to inexplicably breathe. Traveling at impossible speeds, she watched as planets and stars wheeled about her, experiencing a surreal journey that she could scarcely comprehend. The disembodied hand cradled her as it took her through the depths of outer space, traveling beyond the edge of the universe, beyond the ravines of human existence, beyond all rational reasoning and imagination. Colors wheeled around her as she flew through celestial bodies like vapor, experiencing the history and passion of each one. Distance grew between herself and her body as she began to dissolve into pure thought. Finally, gratefully, the child lost consciousness. When the child awoke, she was quite hazy and felt incredibly tired. She could feel that her flesh had been penetrated and held up by a meat hook embedded into her back, hanging in the air. The pain sang in her body but she would not make a peep out of fear. The child tried to register it all but found herself woefully lacking in courage. It was dark and it was difficult to see around her. As her eyes adjusted, a growing horror began to grow in her chest and gut. Several other people, of varying ages and races, hung beside her. She was in a giant room, everything in this room was enormous and far bigger than herself. A large table sat on the side of the room with chairs. Giant candles were lit all around the room. On shelves were jars and jars of pickled human ears, some terribly old and decaying and others fresh, brand new. One wall held a single window. The other side of the window was strangely beautiful to the young child. It was a view into outer space, with alien bodies, stars, and galaxies. Slow and immense, they drifted past the window with a gracefulness that depicted nature as she had never seen before. A huge fire was raging in the fireplace, burning crimson red and orange. Her interest faded quickly though as she took in the rest of the people in here with her. They each hung from the ceiling by meathooks buried in their upper backs and stared at her with naked fear. Their eyes were wild, bloodshot, and bleary with tears. The child opened her mouth to speak but the others shook their heads violently, pressing her to keep quiet. She suddenly heard ticking sounds, odd and nearly insectile, making her cringe. From the shadows of the corner of the room, emerged a figure that sent abject horror through her like a blade slicing against her skin. It was an immense creature, nude and somewhat humanoid in its body with a head, two arms and two legs. A giant eyeball sat in the center of its head and she recognized it as the eyeball that had been watching her from before. All over its body were tiny holes that opened and closed. Absorbing sound from each hole, the creature constantly scanned for noises. Twitching back and forth, its single eye observing them all and they fully cringed at the feeling of its eye upon them. It crouched and peered at its collection of humans. Close to their faces, it clicked and observed them with great attention that made them all hold their breaths. Fear had fully captured the child and she was unable to make a sound. After what felt like an interminable amount of time, the creature retreated to a curtain, curled into a corner, and closed its eye. “What is happening? Where are we?” the child whispered. “None of us know, we were all captured from our lives,” one whispered. “I want to go home,” the child said, tears brimming upon her timid eyes. The others looked away and grimaced at the thought. “No one escapes, no one leaves here,” the other said. “What is that thing?” she spoke with a hushed tone. “It’s the Composer, it’s named the Composer, a name that has passed down from all who have been in this room,” one of the others whispered back. “Silence!” one of them hissed. The Composer rested in the corner of its room, hearing them all whispering and growing in annoyance. These harsh words grated against his sensibilities. His worship of music, notes of magic, symphonies and concertos of grandiose voices, made all other sounds like metal screeching against rocks. The Composer’s entire existence was one in their service and desire to hear further heights of holy chords that carried it away to a world of rapture. Ah yes! Oh these baleful notes! Oh these rising melodies! Oh this ecstasy! What more could the Composer desire when held so dearly in the arms of instrument and music? For so long, the Composer had sought out the essence of music, the very essence of art, and searched through thousands of human souls. The pursuit of transcendence was holy to it and defined his entire being. Within its thoughts were only in pursuit for his greatest dream bestowed upon it by the Goddess of Suffering. This hunger drew it further and further, becoming an obsession that it was grateful to be consumed by. Everything in this world was held in the Composer’s mind, all here lived in the dream of the Composer. It existed in a state of deep slumber and it had birthed an entire universe in the eons of the Composer’s unconscious. The desire for the right soul to be plucked from the earth propelled it towards its ultimate goal. The humans continued to whisper amongst themselves and the Composer became quite irritated. With sudden rage, it charged over and grabbed one of them off the hook. The person began to thrash and wail, making the Composer only angrier. The discordant sound of his begging was grating like the sound of a buzzing fly knocking into a screen door again and again. The other humans hanging screamed in a panic, forgetting themselves, and kicking their feet defiance. The Composer held the man in his fist and turned towards them, opening its maw and bellowing out an alien shriek of pure fury that shook all present. The humans fell silent. The Composer took its prize and strapped him to a rotating table. Having seen the violence of the Composer countless times before him, the man trembled and weeped miserably, softly mewling out a plea to remain unharmed. The holes all over the Composer ticked and ticked, rotating in all directions, opening and closing and absorbing the entire environment’s sounds. Its single, giant eyeball was honed in at the man, piercing the man's soul and threatening to unravel any semblance of courage within him. Pulling out a blade, the Composer brought it to his inner forearm. Pressure, contact, slice. It pulled the skin back, fileting the man and sending waves of pain through him. He screamed and attempted to flail but was restricted by the bonds of the table. Blood began to pour from the wound but the Composer would not relent, taking great pleasure in the man’s agony. Purring like a satiated feline, the Composer skinned him from every accessible portion of his body. Slowly and methodically, the Composer moved with purpose in order to maximize the man’s pain. The greater the suffering, the better the reward. The man writhed, marred by skin peeled back, hanging in loose flaps. The Composer grabbed a jar of salt and showered him in it, making the man convulse and scream out with a hoarse voice. His tears mingled with his blood, in the holy name of the Goddess of Suffering. As a final act, the Composer took a jar of acid and dumped it on the man. Immediately, a sickening sizzling sound began as his flesh melted off him. The man shrieked as his eyeballs dissolved into a mess of fluid, overflowing his eye sockets and dripping down with tears of macabre suffering. Chunks of meat sluiced off the man’s skeleton, leaving a mushy pile of flesh, blood and viscera that stunk heavily of chemicals and blood. The Composer gingerly dug its fingers into the pile and pulled out a green orb, glowing and pulsing with light. Yes, the suffering here had been enough to form this orb. The Goddess of Suffering, who had visited it in its wildish and feverish dream that ordered him to cause suffering to find what he sought - the Golden Orb. Each human soul had a different orb that glowed its own color. Only with great suffering could the Composer extract the soul orb. Greatly pleased to have a new orb, the Composer stood, raised its arm, palm down, and summoned forth the Great Instrument. He relished whatever new sounds this orb might elicit. Light filled the small room, a golden control panel and a white tapestry appeared from nothing. Only the Composer could summon such a musical marvel and it was its instrument and its alone. The control panel was filled with orbs of all kinds of color. The Composer added the green orb to its collection and placed it into place. A pulse of green ebbed outwards before gently receding. The Composer spread its fingers and held them above the golden panel. Closing its giant eye, the Composer took in a gentle breath and then began. With one motion, three orbs lit up and began to spin along a vertical axis. Colors began to paint the white tapestry, flowing in like colored liquid in water. With another motion, the Composer spun a few more orbs and colors flowed into the tapestry, dancing and playing with each other in all kinds of shades. The living painting moved with purpose, all according to the Composer’s will. And then, the strings of violins began to sound, strong and confident. More orbs spun and a string of cellos rang out like holy bells of ancient worship of the Goddess of Suffering. The Composer tilted its hand, changing the position of angular velocity, changing each orb’s quality. The wind instruments came in and heavy drums nearly shook the entire room. In rapture, the Composer continued its orchestration, sending it dancing throughout the space. Drunk with art, the Composer twirled and leapt around, like a madman caught in a typhoon. The music flowed through it, a powerful current of passion held it in rapture and then suddenly, the moment was broken by the sound of the child wailing in fear, unable to contain herself further. Her scream made the Composer stop in motion and freeze for a moment. Her disturbance jarred it from its state and it descended into a state of pure and unfettered rage. It charged the girl, putting its face up to hers and giving a screeching roar that shook the little girl into silence. Its eyeball was now glowing red with an inferno of a furious tempest. The girl trembled but resisted making a sound, but the Composer was consumed with anger and it needed to punish her. It grabbed a hot coal from the fireplace, grabbed her by the face, forced open her mouth and shoved it down into her throat. Instantly her flesh began to sizzle and burn as the sensitive nerves in her mouth registered mass suffering. The girl's skin crackled and popped. Tears poured down her face and she was unable to breathe. The Composer pushed the coal down into her gut where it sat and burned, boiling her stomach. The child hawked up blood that dribbled out from her shocked face. Shaking with pain, the child thrashed and flailed. The Composer thought about harvesting her orb now but decided on a whim to not harvest her just yet. It snapped its finger and the child was restored to her previous condition. Everything in this world was its dream and it decided who died and when. There was an impulse in it to wait on this particular human, inexplicable and yet, powerful. Feeling that she had been punished enough, the Composer calmed itself, its eyeball returning to its normal color. The quest to find the golden orb continued on and the Composer sat down. It fell into a deep meditation and went quiet. The Composer sat beside the window, gazing out at the constellations and galaxies and the colors, wondering its purpose, this dream, and all the ages that had passed by it in the histories of men and women. It did not remember falling asleep or whatever world it had come from. Upon sleep, the Composer had created a universe within its mind, its soul forever wandering the mire and mist of a long dream that it had lived for so long. Thousands and thousands had it searched for the fabled golden orb, its greatest desire that seemed to forever elude its grasp. Just what kind of music would the golden orb sing? What melody would it hear? The prospects tantalized it and it held to its sacred goal for transcendence. Pure music…yes that was what it wanted. Music and music forever. The Composer fell deeper into its trance and closed its eye. The humans began to whisper to each other. “It’s asleep, we have to escape,” one whispered, eyes wide and trembling with fear. “Where will we go? We’re trapped,” another whispered back. “Anywhere but here,” one whispered. With an intense grunt, a man grabbed the handle of the meat hook and pulled himself up, resisting the urge to cry out in pain. He successfully detached himself to the others’ elation. He ran to the others, six people, and lifted them off the hooks. They hurried to the door as quickly and quietly as they could. The door was enormous and they were able to crawl beneath it to emerge outside. The air was suddenly frigid. They all stood, unable to move at the sight that surrounded them. The entire universe of space gazed back at them, hyperaware and sentient. The air vibrated with the sound of a heart beating, pulsing through their flesh and penetrating their minds. Yes. They were held in the gaze of the Goddess of Suffering. This was her domain, within which they were utterly powerless. “It’s better than staying here,” a woman whispered. She sprinted forward off the porch and flew into the space, while the others watched in anticipation. A click sounded and the woman was back on the porch. Despair began to stir in their hearts. The fact that there was no escape began to register to them. In a fit of panic, one by one they jumped off the porch and were propelled forward. And in a single second, they were back on the porch. It became obvious to them all that escape was impossible. The giant door to the room opened slowly and the Composer looked down at all of them. Screams erupted through the group and desperately jumped out only to return once more. A feeling almost resembling pity stirred in its heart and a sense of melancholy nearly descended upon it. The emotion, though, was short-lived and held no place within its heart. All was in service to the Goddess of Suffering and its instrument, its music. Nothing else moved it. These humans were merely a means to the end of its goal: more and more soul orbs. Ranchers regarded cattle as destined to be slaughtered and consumed. The purpose of common broods was to be sacrificed in the pursuit of art. The Composer gently grabbed all the humans and brought them back inside the room, against their attempts to escape. Hanging them back on their meat hooks, the humans dangled once more from the ceiling. The Composer stood there, its ear holes opening and closing, as it contemplated what to do next. The urge to harvest more orbs now came back to it and it grabbed one of the humans. The human screamed and squirmed but it was futile, the Composer was too large and too strong. It put the human down on a stretching rack, tying up the human by the wrists and ankles. Calmly, excruciatingly slowly, the Composer turned a wheel that pulled the human. Completely spread eagle, the human screamed and begged to be saved. The Composer was pleased, this one’s suffering would be great indeed. The wheel turned and the flesh began to strain from the shoulders and hips. The human shrieked in pain, spittle bubbling on his lips as his eyes frantically twitched and rolled back in his head. Skin split, revealing pink muscle, quickly consumed by blood, trickling and mingling with his sweat. The Composer continued to turn the wheel at a steady pace. The man's arms were pulled out of its socket, his shoulder now just bone and ligament. The human’s body was being torn apart, his muscles straining as his body desperately tried to keep its shape. And then it happened, his arms and legs were detached and only four stumps remained. The man thrashed in surreal suffering, wiggling his stumps in near disbelief as the Composer watched him writhing. The Composer took a serrated blade and plunged it into the human’s gut, sawing upwards and tearing, shredding through his entrails. His torn guts overflowed, blooming like a flower out of his wounds. The human’s eyes rolled back in his head and he ceased moving. In the mess of his torso, the Composer reached in and pulled out a purple orb. It pulsed gently, radiating power and whispering ancient tongues. The Composer held it to its forehead, closed its eye and thanked the orb for its gift. The Composer summoned the instrument and carefully dropped it into an open slot on the instrument’s front panel. The orb pulsed with light and settled into its position. With a grand gesture the Composer spread its fingers above the orb and commenced the movement of angular velocity. Each orb spun in its own distinct direction, wheeling and whirling while music began to sing through the air. Before the painting could begin, the music suddenly turned discordant, like a broken instrument plaintively stringing its noise under great strain. The Composer shuddered and suddenly broke out with fury. This was not the music he sought, not at all. In a fever, the Composer turned around and grabbed another human. It grabbed her by the ankle, lifted her up and then smacked her into the ground like an angry child might do so to a toy. Again and again the Composer swung until the human twitched, her body broken and life soon leaving her. The Composer reached into her insides and pulled out a turquoise orb. It placed it into the instrument, began its music again, and was heartbroken when the music emerged completely unsatisfactory. In desperation, it grabbed another human, moving through its stock quite quickly, and used a skewer to pierce his eyes, scooping them out from the sockets and carelessly tossing the goopy eyes onto the floor. With another motion, it tore his tongue out, spilling out blood that overflowed from his mouth. Blind and mute, the man mewled out miserable sounds, begging to be killed. This was not enough. Coughing up blood and flailing, the man attempted to struggle but was completely powerless. With a blunt stick, the Composer beat him on the chest until his sternum cracked and his heart was completely pummeled. The human let out his last groaning breath. The Composer fiercely harvested his orb and added it to its instrument. Again, the Composer was severely dissatisfied by the music. And in this way, the Composer harvested orb after orb to no avail and only the child remained. However, the Composer was exhausted and devoid of hope that it would ever bring forth the holy notes and melodies that it desired. The Composer paced the room, a trapped wolf seeking a return to home, resisting the urge to destroy its room. The Composer opened the window, intending to climb off into space and float for an eternity, void and purposeless. But a crimson light blinded it and absorbed all the space within the room. A sweet song began to play and the Goddess of Suffering murmured into its ears to not give up. The Composer, reinvigorated, grabbed the child against her protests. Without patience, it grabbed a blade and gently sliced her up from groin to sternum. The child howled and kicked but she was powerless. The Composer reached in, pulling out organ by organ from the child’s living flesh until a golden light emerged. The Composer’s alien heart began pounding, it was the golden orb that it had been seeking all this time. With trembling fingers, being consumed with anticipation, the Composer began to play the instrument. And yes, now this was what the Composer had been seeking in the long eons of its slumber. The music flowed through the air seamlessly, filling the Composer with vigor and an excitement it had never experienced before. Holy ghosts of forgotten abyssal deities filled the room, caressing its skin and rippling pleasure through this hollow soul. There was power in this music but there was also a tenuous grasp on madness and mumblings. Rapture, ecstasy, desire, passion, life! All this tore through it with the force of a thundering storm. The Composer’s earholes clicked and clacked with such fervor to have such holy music bestowed upon it. The Composer closed its eye, listened deeply and shuddered to have been so understood. Yes, much was being revealed to the Composer now, the songs of ages past, the notes of ordained fate, the fervor for that which expanded beyond mortal bounds. This world, this dream had been all born out of a desire for transcendence and now its duty had been fulfilled. How long had the Composer dreamed for this little girl? It scarcely registered time but understood that this dream world had existed for as long as its search for perfection in this flawed universe. But the call of the Goddess of Suffering had passed and the Composer could rest easy once more. The Composer closed its eye, awoke and left the entire history of humans to be snuffed out with a single breath.