Reaper's Song
~Joseph
I walked into my six-year-old son, Daniel’s, room. He was already sitting in his bed, waiting for me to tell him goodnight. But what he said surprised me immensely.
“Daddy?” Daniel asked me.
“Yes?” I replied, sitting down on the bed next to him.
“There’s something in my closet.” Daniel put it very bluntly in front of me.
Many people would not be surprised at a six-year-old saying this, however, I was. My son had a brave heart, and once he laughingly told me that night was his favorite time of day. He had never asked for a nightlight, and always had us turn all the lights off. He loved the dark… and he said that he couldn’t sleep with the light on. Never, at any time, had he given the indication of a fear of childish ‘monsters’.
But maybe childhood nyctophobia had finally caught up with him.
“Do you want me to check under you bed, too?” I asked, halfway joking.
Daniel gave me a puzzled stare. “Why would you look under my bed for something in my closet?”
I was speechless for a moment, but finally I managed to speak. “Oh, I was just joking,” I said. “It’s something that your older sister asked me about when she was young.”
It was then that I knew that it was not a ‘monster’ such as the boogieman, or anything of the sort that he believed to be in his closet. Daniel was a rational child, and from the truthful look on his face, I began to believe in something-in-the-closet as well.
After a moment, when Daniel said nothing more, I said, “Well, I guess I’ll have a look, then.”
Slowly, almost dreading the moment myself, I walked to the other side of the room, where his closet door was barely opened.
The door creaked open, and I swallowed, now myself quite scared. I could feel a drop of sweat on my brow, and a terrible lump in my throat.
Cut it out! I thought. My son, thirty years younger than me, had shown less fear than I had.
Luckily for my reputation—but terrible for my heart, as it pounded harder—there was something in his closet. Or it seemed to be in his closet, but it was far away from me.
It was music.
A lone violin played a melancholy, heart-wrenching song. Tears ran down my cheeks at the beautiful sadness of it. I felt my shoulder-length hair whip in the wind…
There was wind in his closet.
The wind, seemingly supernatural, tugged at me, pulling me across an empty field, pulling me closer to the music. But as I got closer, the music changed.
It was suddenly fierce, played quickly and loudly. I could hear the bow scrape against the strings, and a scream erupted from someone.
I couldn’t tell if it was from the violin or me… or possibly the musician.
I tried to turn and get away from it, but I couldn’t. I was bourn closer upon the wind. My baggy t-shirt flew into my face, and I struggled to pull it down.
Finally, the wind slowed to a stop, and when I had pulled my shirt off my head, I stared at the ground.
Sitting in that field—which was barren of trees or hills, or any living creature except for me—I saw a violin lying in front of me.
I reached out for it, against my own will, but pulled back when I saw a spark—a tiny spark that flew down the smallest string. I watched it as it danced down one string, and then jumped to the next, four times in a row. When it got to the bottom of the final string, the violin caught on fire.
For the first time, I noticed the grass below me was dry, and it too started to burn immediately.
I jumped up—as fear had now placed my life back into my own hands—and started to run back to where I thought the closet was.
I did not see the door, or any indication of where it might be.
The only thing I saw were the flames that raced at the edge of my vision… I felt my legs start to ache; I felt heat on the back of my neck.
I ran for a long time, but the fire never caught me. I was lucky, for just when I ran out of energy and fell from exhaustion I found the door.
Or rather, I fell through the door.
I fell back through the closet door and landed heavily on the ground, panting.
I heard Daniel yelling for his mom to help.
This is a story that I started writing today, and it will switch off between modern and older times. It's still a little vague, but it will be understood later on.
Now I'm going to ask some questions too, because I want something for people to definitely critique.
QUESTIONS:
1) Is this a good start? Are you compelled to continue the story?
2) Description? Where do I need more, where do I need less, how did I do on it?
3) Was this confusing? I thought that this might get kind of confusing, but I want to know from you what you thought about it.
Thanks for reading!
Teh Wozzinator
