Blood in the Key of a Jealous C

A horrific consequence for one's actions. How the mind can destroy someone.

Blood in the Key of a Jealous C

 

Legion

23NOV07

 

 

 

It stands before her beckoning, dark and ominous. A blackish, hellish creature that calls her back into a moment she wishes to forget. A lapse of reason she had hoped would fade away into the grayness of insanity. Moments of clarity play through her corrupted mind like a melody embedded in the recesses of memory that floats through the aether between rememberance and thoughts longing to be forgotten.

 

She can hear it. Snarling and snapping like a dog gone rabid, searching for a target to let loose upon and render to shreds. To share in its agony and fury. It stands there in the half-lit darkness of the conservatory, grinning the grin of madness with purpose. Its smile unnerves her and, yet, stubbornly she stands against the onslaught of those bared teeth of the wounded beast. Those ivory fangs drip with vendetta and it waits. It waits to leap upon her with a ferocity reserved for those that only hatred unleashed can absolve.

 

"Come to me."

 

It speaks to her within. A gutteral, throaty deepness sends chills throughout her convulsive body. It captivates and she feels she no longer controls her guilt-stricken body. She steps forward, losing her strength and nerve, through the archway into the room. One step closer. Another. And another.

 

Memories pour forth into her cornucopic mind. The moment of realization of a man she could not turn an eye from. How her heart had pounded like a drum to the notes off the page he conjured his magic with. His spell bedazzled all within ear shot. She was captured by the tenaciousness of his gift.

 

"Come..."

 

The evening that followed and all that was spoken between them was captivating. He mainly spoke. She, becoming more enraptured with each minute that passed, was unable to form complex sentences. She assumed that he must have thought her a simpleton throughout that first conversation. He later had told her that he had not.

 

That first encounter led to two and then three and so on. She had fallen. Fallen harder than any seraphim cast deep into the abyss. She was lost within him.

 

"...closer..."

 

Days became weeks and weeks into months and those turned into years. Within that time they had married and began a life shared. Her happiness could not have been more complete. She lived amongst the clouds soaring with him beside her and she beside him.

 

"...to..."

 

His career continued and blossomed. Always in demand. Always on the move. His perfection transcribed onto the page and then was let loose upon the stage. His fingers danced across the keys with the relevance of God creating the beauty of Eve. Admiration was his sustenance and applause was his ambrosia. He had become a living legend. But alas, in his shadow, she soon became a shade.

 

"...me..."

 

Her mind began to question perfection. Her grip on reality was loosened. The clouds they once rode upon began to darken and the rains came. Rains brought purification and damnation. She began to see through eyes filled with imagined jealousy. A brief contact or a glance that reeked of flirtation. A letter of adoration or a gift sent with intent. One adoring fan too many and too many nights spent apart gave rise to desperation.

 

On a night much like the one in which they had met, he sat at his piano creating his next monumental masterpiece within their once happy home. She, in a unrestrained moment, let loose her hand in an attempt to keep him hers for all time. A hand in which a knife had unbeknowingly found its way into. Down it struck piercing her one true love's heart. The beat that drove him played in time no more. She looked on in terror aware and unaware at what had just occurred. Gazing down at his now lifeless face, she could see no horror. Only adoration. Her mind reeled. She ran from the room in a blind panic, but several feet outside the door the creature began to call to her. The one lone witness to her crime of passion.

 

"...murderess!"

 

She halted her flight. Slowly she had turned back toward the conservatory. And now she finds herself standing in front of the beast. Its ivory teeth stained with blood. Blood that she had spilled. Her lover's blood.

 

She feels its voice within her mind. It is screaming in dissonance where once it purred with a melodic grace so pure. So wrathful now, yet so angelic. It seethes with anger at the destruction of its counterpart and counterpoint. No longer will its golden voice be heard by the world coached and coaxed so beautifully by his fingers. The beast reels in its death throes now, but it will have its vengeance. Its voice, its song, shall be heard. Even if it is by but one soul, it WILL be heard.

 

With an agonizing scream, she realizes that the monster now is upon her in all its vehemence. She falls to the floor as it rips her mind asunder and fills it with nothing but a mournful, bittersweet cacophony.  Music that will constantly remind her of him and her ungodly deed. Her physical form convulses along side the body of her silent lover.  A constant hell descends upon her. Insanity forged by clarity sets in. The clarity of that treacherous moment blends with the insanity of nothing else. All she will now see until the end of time is the blood upon the page and the keys. Drops of blood blend with the notes creating a new masterpiece. A masterpiece that she alone will now hear eternally, accompanied by the melodic wails of a black beast with ivory teeth.

Reviews

This piece seems to get off to a slow start, but it quickly gains its feet and begins ramping up the tension and expectation. I especially liked the way you revealed what she had done ("...murderess!"); it was a manifestation of the escalating intensity, and gave it a wonderful high point.

However, I feel that in parts - especially the opening, before you seemed to have gotten into the rhythm of the piece - pace and clarity have been moved to one side in value of density of language, when was was really needed was balance between the two. The beginning contained so much abstract thought as opposed to concrete description that I began wondering whether it was all metaphorical; was the beast simply a description for her emotive state and not actually existing in the real world at all? I think that it would work a bit better if you put an emphasis on creating the beast as a physical entity at the start of the piece, and then focussing more on its moral implications towards the end, maintaining the links between as a sort of foreshadowing.

For most of the piece, however, you have created a very vivid and emotive montage without overloading the reader. Quite possibly because I just watched the 2004 movie version of it, this reminds me of Phantom of the Opera, in that the beast is the Phantom and the musician is Christine, the singer than the Phantom coached.

One final note, I'm not sure if it was intended or not, but the title seems a little sing-song for my personal taste. If that's not what you were aiming for, than maybe changing it to "Blood in the Key of a Jealous F" or some other key would remove the rhyme between "Key" and "C".

Bravo, good sir, a piece well written =).

[B.R.Bloor]

Wow, yeah. You're right, i did like this.

[Gaiamethod]

Very good and very interesting. I like the way the language of the unconscious brings you into the story as though it was being told from a deeper psychic level. It feels nebulous and I can really feel the power of unconscious thinking at play. How the overwhelming fears and beliefs are acted out and the mental torture that remains when we are not in control of our fears. Excellent.

[Tai Chi Italy]

This is a fantastic read. Yes guilt is the most persistent of beasts and will kill us or, as your story describes, leave us in eternal living hell. Thanks for sharing it! Smiling at you, glad to see you haven't given in to the deadly deletions despair, Tai