DWINDLE: THE NIGHT’S SYMPHONY (6)

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April 19, 2013 by misterblank22

6SIX6

 

December 25th
1859
London

Joseph Dylan set in his window gazing out at his garden. Small snowflakes danced around the dead ground. Dark trees curled up to the sky almost touching the clouds. A young boy brought Joseph a small cup of tea.

“Thank you boy, run and grab yourself a cup, drop two sugars in so you’ll enjoy it more.” Joseph spoke in a soft tone. The boy darted for the door in an excited stampede. “Oh and Merry Christmas!” Joseph spoke as the boy turned the corner.

“Did you open your presents already Mr. Dylan?” Charles said from the doorway. Joseph took a small sip of his tea.

“Of course, I beat the children to them this year. It’s a glorious day is in not?” Charles walked up to Joseph to sit near him. He grabbed a small sandwich from the dish between them. Charles was an old man with a head of white hair.

“It feels like only yesterday that we were among the children with youth in our hearts. Now I barely get out of bed before its time to return there.” Charles spoke to Joseph who gazed out of the window.

“This life comes with challenges but it all pays off in the end if you’re good in faith.” Joseph said before he took another sip of his warm tea.

“That is why I’ve joined you this morning Mr. Dylan-“

“Call me Joseph Charles; I call you by your first name so you should be able to call me by mine.” Joseph gently spoke.

“I’ve lost my faith Joseph; I have been trying for years to convince myself that what the books teach is true. I feel as if I’m alone in this, how can you’re faith be so strong?” Charles set up in a worried way.

“Have you abandoned the lord that saved you Charles?” Joseph seemed offended.

“No Mr. Dylan, I mean Joseph, I simply, I want to hear his voice.” Charles seemed weak.

“His voice only speaks to those with full faith; if you have not heard his voice rumble from the sky then you do not believe.”

“But I do, I’ve gone to every one of your sermons, I’ve read all of your books, I’ve attended rituals, I have done it all and still no words have been spoken to me. Am I not worthy?” Charles was in despair.

“You may have shown poor faith in your past Charles. Have you asked for forgiveness?”

“Yes when I felt that I would be answered back but that was in my youth. I cannot speak to a man who will not speak back; I feel I am simply talking to myself.” These words offended Joseph who quickly stood.

“You my friend have turned against your lord like so many of the parasites in this world. You need a rebirth my dear friend.” Joseph leaned in close to Charles who had his back deep in his chair.

Soon strange shapes began to form along the walls. At first they were simply black dots but soon began to move like an insect on the wall. Then they formed human shapes that walked out of the walls like they were doorways. Charles stood up in fear dropping his tea, the cup shattered on the tile floor. He clutched his heart as he backed into the corner. Joseph and the figures began to surround Charles. Large laughing mouths began to appear on the heads of the figures. A strange sound came from them that resembled a thousand horns.

“Your old soul is now theirs Charles and no one shall weep for you. Not your children, not your wife and not even your friends who walk across the heavens. Not a single soul will miss the sorry skin that carries you around, and your face was becoming a bore to everyone in town.” A tear trickled down Charles’ cheek, his white hair began to fall out as he collapsed to the ground. A dark figure bent down to within inches of his face.

“Joseph I-” Charles begged.

“No words are needed Charles. I will make sure that the people know you died the death of a coward and a waste, a pollutant to their world.” Joseph slid over to his cup of tea. Charles began to breathe heavily as the figure sniffed him. Mr. Dylan took one last sip of his tea before he poured it onto Charles’ face. The liquid began to burn his flesh. Steam rose to the black figure who inhaled it with a deep groan. Soon the other figures let out children’s laughter at the sight of Charles’ struggle.

“Joseph why?” Charles begged in a weak voice as his lips melted.

“Ask the serpent when you meet him.” Joseph went back to his window to watch the snow drip from the clouds.

ophelia-millais

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