"Asheroth."
Familiar voice.
"Asheroth."
The voice came again.
"Asheroth."
Firmer. But who's Asheroth anyway?
The throbbing in my temples somewhat subsided, and I risked opening eyes, only to regret doing so. The surroundings were a still bit too bright and my headache returned. I closed my eyes again, groaning. The unknown person gave an audible sigh of relief.
"Who are you?" I asked the stranger, and strangely I didn't feel that he was an intruder nor had any ill intentions. Yet, I asked, "What are you doing in my house?"
"Good, you're back," came the reply.
Then I heard a small "whoosh" and felt a weird breeze.
"Hey, who are you?" I asked again. I wasn't sure why I wanted to know who that stranger was, and why I didn't feel threatened. And I felt really confused. What happened to me? Who was that unidentified man?
I gently opened my eyes and tried to ignore the brightness.
Nobody.
"Where did he go?" I wondered aloud.
What happened? I was suddenly alarmed that I can't remember anything before the time I heard that stranger calling out for someone with a strange name. Asheroth? I observed my surroundings. Yes, this IS my house. I've lived here for 19 years. Yet, I had this odd feeling that I couldn't put into words.
It was like waking up from a really long sleep, from a really bad dream that felt so long to the extent you can't remember reality.
Who am I?
I got up and I realized I was wearing weird clothes. Clothes which I don't remember owning or purchasing. And someone was playing my piano, because the fallboard was up.
What is going on?
Showing posts with label Story thread 8. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story thread 8. Show all posts
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Colours return (Part 1)
The black of the night sky hides the bashful twinkling stars. I allow my brown irises to relax, enlarging my pupils - as black as the velvet blanket of the night sky.
With a mutter of a simple spell, I teleport myself to my intended destination. Gray and startled, the owl flutters away, hooting its displeasure.
"Nice spot, Asheroth," commented BenGarth as he too popped out of oblivion to perch beside me on the brown branch of the tallest tree on the green hill.
"Why on a tree?" BenGarth asked again.
I shrugged, uninterested in answering his question. He put his arms around my shoulder, and teleported us to an unfamiliar room. White walls, large windows, glass door. And I took notice of a black and roughly rectangular object. It was as tall as my height, an arms' length deep, and two arms' length wide. The front had a projection, as if a box was attached to the main body. And at the bottom, there were three brass protrutions which seemed like pedals.
BenGarth smiled, pulled a nearby bench, black like the unknown object. He sat down and gestured for me to come near. I stepped closer, and watched him lift cover off the box-projection, revealing a bright red silk cloth below. And he removed the red cloth, further revealing a great number of straight, small...
"Keys," BenGarth told me. "These things are called keys. You press on them."
Yes. Great number of keys. Black and white. Alternating with a certain pattern.
"What is this?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Without answering my query, he began to press on the keys, several at once with both hands. And a chord of the most beautiful sounding notes flooded my ears.
Oh, it's a musical instrument? I realized silently as BenGarth continued to play. And with every bit of dynamism he displayed through his skillful manipulation of the black-white keys, I felt my body sway. A strange stirring began in my heart, and I felt my heart thumping faster faster and faster. I began to sweat. I gulped as I began to feel hot. My fingers mirrored the vibrations of the instrument. Every note, chord. Overwhelming.
Overwhelmingly familiar.
BenGarth's playing gained volume. As he crescendoed, I developed a headache. I clutched my head, and tried to cover my ears.
"Cease this music!" I demanded. My cry was ignored; BenGarth was reaching the climax of his song and pressed on. I stumbled away from my friend and clumsily knocked over a chair. I collapsed to the floor, the headache rising with the wave of notes BenGarth was drumming out. I was in torment, and I began to scream in agony. Yet, the music droned on until the pain was finally too much to bear. My vision became brighter and brighter as a blinding spot of light appeared before my eyes.
I passed out.
With a mutter of a simple spell, I teleport myself to my intended destination. Gray and startled, the owl flutters away, hooting its displeasure.
"Nice spot, Asheroth," commented BenGarth as he too popped out of oblivion to perch beside me on the brown branch of the tallest tree on the green hill.
"Why on a tree?" BenGarth asked again.
I shrugged, uninterested in answering his question. He put his arms around my shoulder, and teleported us to an unfamiliar room. White walls, large windows, glass door. And I took notice of a black and roughly rectangular object. It was as tall as my height, an arms' length deep, and two arms' length wide. The front had a projection, as if a box was attached to the main body. And at the bottom, there were three brass protrutions which seemed like pedals.
BenGarth smiled, pulled a nearby bench, black like the unknown object. He sat down and gestured for me to come near. I stepped closer, and watched him lift cover off the box-projection, revealing a bright red silk cloth below. And he removed the red cloth, further revealing a great number of straight, small...
"Keys," BenGarth told me. "These things are called keys. You press on them."
Yes. Great number of keys. Black and white. Alternating with a certain pattern.
"What is this?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Without answering my query, he began to press on the keys, several at once with both hands. And a chord of the most beautiful sounding notes flooded my ears.
Oh, it's a musical instrument? I realized silently as BenGarth continued to play. And with every bit of dynamism he displayed through his skillful manipulation of the black-white keys, I felt my body sway. A strange stirring began in my heart, and I felt my heart thumping faster faster and faster. I began to sweat. I gulped as I began to feel hot. My fingers mirrored the vibrations of the instrument. Every note, chord. Overwhelming.
Overwhelmingly familiar.
BenGarth's playing gained volume. As he crescendoed, I developed a headache. I clutched my head, and tried to cover my ears.
"Cease this music!" I demanded. My cry was ignored; BenGarth was reaching the climax of his song and pressed on. I stumbled away from my friend and clumsily knocked over a chair. I collapsed to the floor, the headache rising with the wave of notes BenGarth was drumming out. I was in torment, and I began to scream in agony. Yet, the music droned on until the pain was finally too much to bear. My vision became brighter and brighter as a blinding spot of light appeared before my eyes.
I passed out.
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