David plucked every out-of-tune string before positioning his fingers into a chord. The bow touched the strings lightly and with an every so slow motion the violin produced a low hum. Rotating the bow a little as he dragged it so he made use of every string, David discovered a tune in his own mind. The tune was awful and it reverberated in the dusty, grey attic. Still, there was nobody around anymore to hear him, so he began to play more confidently.
The screeching of the instrument ensued and even David’s ears were crying out in agony. In his final frustration he threw the violin aside, it having failed him in his desire to create music. The piece of wood smashed against one of the columns, strings snapped and wood splintered. David walked to the stairs and descended through the house. He stepped lightly around the blood and ignored the smell. Once out of the tall building, David walked up the pavement and tuned his ears to the sounds of the night.
As he walked he raised his hand to his ears and clicked his fingers every few seconds. He let the sound resonate in his ear, but hated how as quickly as it started it disappeared. David began to murmur to himself. Bushes rustled along the road and once more he found himself consumed by the noise. Pausing for the moment, David noticed something amongst the chatter of leaves and the creaking of branches. A fine, consistent tune danced between the noise and David found it beautiful.
He located the source and made his way straight for it. Crossing lawns and scaling fences, Dave found himself in the backyard of small home. Scanning the area for a sign of a dog, but there was none. He walked up to the window which had the light shining through it. Between the blinds he saw an elderly man, obese and with a large white beard working the strings of a guitar. The man played a tune so lightly that most could not hear it, but David recognized music in the harshest of noises.
The man began to cough as he played, suddenly stopping and coughing into his hand. It was painful to watch, especially to David. Light, happy music replaced by a harsh, sad cough of a dying man. David watched the man drop the guitar, clutch at his chest and spit blood. Once more sadness filled David as the old man crumpled to the floor, dead. Blood spewed from his mouth like a faucet and David cursed; another one.
Breaking the window with his elbow, David heard a low alarm in the background. He could not stay like before, he had to leave now. However, in the short time David had he climbed into the building and grabbed the guitar. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, David walked up the pavement playing the guitar like the man. He was grateful to find it was in tune and soon a melody flowed from the guitar and David smiled.
He hummed to himself as he played, the harshness of the night sounds blocked from his ears by the song filling him. Murmurings of words played upon his lips as a cop car passed him.
“Sir, have you heard any disturbances?” the policeman asked slowing his car down. David eyed the cop and shook his head.
“No disturbances at all,” David replied. “Do you mean my guitar?”
“Uh…no…you continue as is, sir,” the Cop replied with a confused expression.
With that the two parted and not for the last time. David felt the urge to sing to himself and his lips began to open a little wider as his tongue and throat worked to make the words. A voice within him began to sing and David hated the sound. For a moment he stopped in disbelief, but tried again. To his greatest displeasure, David realized his voice out of tune.
He held the guitar in his off hand and realized what needed to be done. Turning on the spot, David began to walk back. The guitar didn’t feel right in his hand anymore and he felt the weight slipping through his fingers. Still, it wasn’t the guitar that needed to be punished. It produced a wonderful sound and it did not deserve to be punished. David passed the house that the old man lived in and walked up the open front door.
With a deep breath, David placed the guitar next to the door and entered. There was a low hum of static in the next room and he walked straight for it softly. The policeman was standing over the body of the old man, talking into his radio with central. David eyed the gun at the policeman’s hip and pondered what his next move should be, but instead he just stood there.
The policeman began to cough as well, falling to the ground, his hand in the pool of blood. He curled onto the ground and noticed David out of the corner of his eye. The coughing continued painfully and eventually the light faded from his eyes.
David knelt beside the body and unfastened the gun from his holster. With a flick and a click the safety was off. He knew it wouldn’t work, he knew it a long time ago. The gun pounded once he pulled the trigger, his head jolted on his shoulders, but his eyes didn’t close for the last time. He threw the gun to the side and wiped the spot where the bullet entered. Not a single drop of blood.
David sighed deeply and in that moment he accepted what he was. Walking out of the building he continued in a direction he chose at random. The world throbbed in his wake. His steps rotted the ground and the trees crumbled. Anger filled the broken god and his mouth began to seal. He wiped the fleshy skin that now replaced his mouth. David stared at the horizon and tuned his ears for the sound of life.