MissMayhem
Wanderer
Melodies of fancy played in his mind, as fingers delicately plucked the rhythmic translation of his thoughts.
A certain ease transpired from the simplicity of such movement, bringing his mind to a place of tranquility. In this safe place, there was no echo of the fears that stemmed from human thought.
Every ache of agony was unleashed in the twinging of cords. It was extracted from him as poison from a festering wound. Drawing out the negativity, the instrument produced something wonderful from the toxicity that he offered to transfuse through it.
Dreamy notes floated all around him, almost tangible in his imagination. The ripples of sound echoed into his mind, and flooded his body with an intense feeling of achievable stillness.
For the moment, he was beyond himself, and one with the music that danced elegantly all around him. An uplifted soul made him feel weightless and nonexistent. In the passion, eyes closed to fully immerse himself in a primal manor.
The thumping of a booted foot merged into the sound of strings, offering a welcoming accompaniment. A soft hum reverberated in the depths of his gullet, releasing itself as a most sorrowful pitch.
Something in the simplified sound gave it an incredible depth. Behind the melody there was a story being told, one that only he knew the true translation.
Airy fingers swept themselves flawlessly over moaning strings that spoke volumes in their wordless cries. As their labor intensified, his head bobbed lightly, keeping to said rhythm.
It was only in this moment that he felt truly free. Nothing flowed through the inner workings of his mind except the music. It overwhelmed him so deeply that he became it.
There was no body, and no mind, only the wailing cry of anguish that leaked from that guitar. Who would have thought a simple wooden structure held such a capability in its existence? A capability that offered exemption from the horrors of reality.
Another world formed itself behind closed eyes, shifting and twisting as his hands did steady work. Earthly trials no longer bound him, as he floated beyond his body into the ethereal realm of his awareness.
Soaring high in this heightened senses, all was well until he heard a familiar guttural laugh that ricocheted all around him. It ripped the moment away, tearing it from him with little struggle. The air grew a chill, rippling over and into him, leaking into the very core of his being.
As the plucking ceased, he opened his eyes. A cold sweat ran over his flesh, as the haunted memories returned.
The room around him was empty, though he could feel the presence of he who laughs, everywhere and nowhere.
The taunting was a painful reminder of the price he should one day have to pay for what was sold. A price he once thought nothing to offer. An egotistical decision that will always have the hellhounds nipping at his trail.
Left alone in the shell of his body, he felt nothing once again. The chains that bound his creativity wrapped themselves invisibly around him. Their choking hold beaded tears in his eyes, as a feeling of mourning devastated him.
From the ashes of his own antagonism, he pushed. A single note met the air again, to aide him in his break away from despair.
It had not been noticed how long he held his breath, as a deep exhale forced itself into the air. With it, his soul was relieved of the temporary reminder of his bondage.
The murmur of melody began again. A delicate introduction to be offered once more in the silence of the confining space.
That formidable presence would always be lurking in the shadows of his mind. One present day, the devil would catch up to him, this was a surety.
Yet, it would not be today.
Today he played on, enjoying his gift while he still possessed that mortal anatomy.
A certain ease transpired from the simplicity of such movement, bringing his mind to a place of tranquility. In this safe place, there was no echo of the fears that stemmed from human thought.
Every ache of agony was unleashed in the twinging of cords. It was extracted from him as poison from a festering wound. Drawing out the negativity, the instrument produced something wonderful from the toxicity that he offered to transfuse through it.
Dreamy notes floated all around him, almost tangible in his imagination. The ripples of sound echoed into his mind, and flooded his body with an intense feeling of achievable stillness.
For the moment, he was beyond himself, and one with the music that danced elegantly all around him. An uplifted soul made him feel weightless and nonexistent. In the passion, eyes closed to fully immerse himself in a primal manor.
The thumping of a booted foot merged into the sound of strings, offering a welcoming accompaniment. A soft hum reverberated in the depths of his gullet, releasing itself as a most sorrowful pitch.
Something in the simplified sound gave it an incredible depth. Behind the melody there was a story being told, one that only he knew the true translation.
Airy fingers swept themselves flawlessly over moaning strings that spoke volumes in their wordless cries. As their labor intensified, his head bobbed lightly, keeping to said rhythm.
It was only in this moment that he felt truly free. Nothing flowed through the inner workings of his mind except the music. It overwhelmed him so deeply that he became it.
There was no body, and no mind, only the wailing cry of anguish that leaked from that guitar. Who would have thought a simple wooden structure held such a capability in its existence? A capability that offered exemption from the horrors of reality.
Another world formed itself behind closed eyes, shifting and twisting as his hands did steady work. Earthly trials no longer bound him, as he floated beyond his body into the ethereal realm of his awareness.
Soaring high in this heightened senses, all was well until he heard a familiar guttural laugh that ricocheted all around him. It ripped the moment away, tearing it from him with little struggle. The air grew a chill, rippling over and into him, leaking into the very core of his being.
As the plucking ceased, he opened his eyes. A cold sweat ran over his flesh, as the haunted memories returned.
The room around him was empty, though he could feel the presence of he who laughs, everywhere and nowhere.
The taunting was a painful reminder of the price he should one day have to pay for what was sold. A price he once thought nothing to offer. An egotistical decision that will always have the hellhounds nipping at his trail.
Left alone in the shell of his body, he felt nothing once again. The chains that bound his creativity wrapped themselves invisibly around him. Their choking hold beaded tears in his eyes, as a feeling of mourning devastated him.
From the ashes of his own antagonism, he pushed. A single note met the air again, to aide him in his break away from despair.
It had not been noticed how long he held his breath, as a deep exhale forced itself into the air. With it, his soul was relieved of the temporary reminder of his bondage.
The murmur of melody began again. A delicate introduction to be offered once more in the silence of the confining space.
That formidable presence would always be lurking in the shadows of his mind. One present day, the devil would catch up to him, this was a surety.
Yet, it would not be today.
Today he played on, enjoying his gift while he still possessed that mortal anatomy.