The story so far:
Stagnant seconds in time inched forward by way of an incessant clock. With every tick of its chronological heartbeat another crack found its way onto the thin candy shell that was my sanity. The darkness in my mind extrapolated in ever increasing shades of black. I saw nothing, if seeing nothing can be considered “seeing” at all.
In an endless sea of midnight I notice a spot. Still black in essence, its lackluster shade defiant against an ebony void. Seconds passed and the clock ticked… jagged lines began to form on the manifestation of my mind. Sharp craters leaped from the nothingness like ghost from the ether.
A light, small and sharp like a pinprick in the dark curtain of night, shuddered into existence proclaiming itself as my new focus… I sank into its presence with a surrendering grace.
Moments later an explosion shook the black walls of my nightmare. The mysterious gleaming light erupted into a cosmic oasis of sanity. I was suddenly looking at a bright florescent ceiling light with a dark shape hovering in front of it. Reality had found me, or was it the other way around?
“Oh my god, he snapped out of it!” A feminine voice shouted angrily to no one in particular.
A cold hand grasped my neck with fierce tenacity.
“How did you do that you greasy basterd?” The dark shape shrieked as a bone jarring crack issued from the side of my face.
“Do what, you crazy bitch?” I said while seeing spots. The silhouette began to grow more focused after only a few minutes of conscience, slowly revealing itself to be a curvacious figure with lean muscular legs barely concealed behind a sleek black feminine business suit. I didn’t need to see anymore, that cruel demeanor and perfect body could only belong to the infamous Joanna Pierce, high-ranking member of the Blue Sun Cult. Warm fluid ran down my chin to join a thick crust of dried blood. She must have been at this a while…
Never had I seen the black-hearted vixen so filled with rage. From what I could gather from our short dialogue I guessed that she was livid about me braking out of the cult created mind slavery for the second time. Its effect a total and complete capture of ones mind to the Blue Sun cult was the centerpiece to their grand aspirations of spiritual enslavement. I began to laugh just then. My frustration with an ongoing journey to right my forgotten wrongs and reclaim my memory in the process was at its peak. Beyond anger and slipping slowly into lunacy I began to speak.
“I spoke to your god you psycho hose beast; he told me his bifurcated tail hurt from the **** kicking I gave him.” I shouted not making sense in this strange state.
The ominous sound of teeth grinding bounced off the invisible walls of my cramped cell, finally telling me that I wasn’t in sheer nothingness any longer but a small dank room.
A force erupted into my mid-section sending me flying backwards along with the wooden chair I was tied to. The impact was followed by a grunt shortly there after, a door slammed shut and the ceiling light disappeared. Once again I found myself shrouded in darkness.
The music man
“I know why it is that you are immune to the effect.” A voice said in an aged croak.
“Who the **** are you?” I said feeling a very real and lucid emotion, fear.
“I am the man with the music box, its song an entrancing one. Filled with ire and spiked with joy its all too willing desire to toy. I know not from whence it came but it has left me in this void of enraptured pain. You can call me, the music man.” He finished in a flowing sing song.
Before I could protest to this mans impossible presence he began to speak again.
“You see the music box is the reason why, don’t believe me? Why then take a try.”
I could almost hear the mans no doubt weathered old face crack into a wicked smile. After what seemed like an eternity of silence. I heard a small creaking yawn, like old hinges hard at work.
A thin sliver of eerie green light formed inches from my face and began to grow. Its irradiant rays of twisted luminosity bringing to light a terrible face lined with cascading wrinkles like a roadmap to hell, creating the optical illusion of a floating face just above the ghoulish light source.
The fluorescence came from what could now be seen as a rather simple looking box with the generic pattern of dancing ballerinas like wallpaper in a child’s room. A sound soft and sweet emanated from the aurora. It was an entrancing lullaby that sounded as if it were birthed from Satan’s forlorn viola. I use such a dark reference because the presence of the music man made it so; however the box itself seemed neutral in reality if such a thing could exist at all. It defied conventional stereo types and blazed its own trail of innocent perplexity. But when looked upon it had no equal to its beauty.
Something happened in that instance… A memory came to me from years ago. In my days as a hired con man and professional thief. I was contracted by a buttoned down business man whose office resided on the 50th floor of the Jauntelle building on Crosstown and Geiger in the dieing city of Stratford. He told me to retrieve a box from the old man in the shack. The shack was an antique store whose presence defied its surroundings. It was old, older than even the historical landmarks that dotted the “vacation destination” spots on the cheesy maps sold by desperate venders throughout the area. The job was suspicious do to the item being so easily acquired giving rise to obscure paranoia. With no other option I followed through with the job and gave the item to the business man apprehensively accepting my undeserved reward, but before the transaction took place, I opened the box…
That was the only memory I had of my former self before my second awakening in that god damned cornfield. The green brilliance had gifted me that memory and in addition had somehow protected me from the cults mind control.
A flare issued from a door way followed by additional lights, illuminating the entire room. I glanced around frantically looking for the Music Man but he was nowhere in sight…
“You think killing the Herzog demonstrates your skill? Think again, luck can only get you so far and after that you have to face riotous justice!” Joanna said in a fanatical tone.
"Where was your luck when we gassed you from the back seat of your car on your way to missy’s little white trash enclave?”
“So that’s how I got caught.” I thought to myself. It didn’t matter after seeing the Music Man my head was a **** of enigmatic mystery…