The Organ
The sound of the great Organ echoed through the walls of the old church onto the empty, dark streets of Blestown. He was surprised that the seemingly delicate walls could handle the prodigious vibrations coming from the Organ. The floor creaked beneath his feet when he walked down the aisle a few minutes ago. The cold air gave him no sense of security- it seemed to him that the space was enclosed, but every now and then he felt a small gust of wind brushing his neck from behind. Cold sweat, he thought, that’s what he’s feeling. He has a very important audition tomorrow for the choir and he cannot mess it up.
His fingers danced skillfully along the keys of the old Organ and he noticed the small film of sweat accumulating on his willowy fingers.
“Steady...” he said, “steady, I want to be in this choir. Get your shit together.”
He was so engrossed with his practicing that he completely missed the sound of the wooden floors creaking and groaning under the weight of someone. The sound got closer and closer- close enough for him to notice, and when he did, it was too late.
The resonance of the keys playing shook the yonder souls of the believers that were once alive. The cup of red wine sat gently on the great Organ, looking sparingly delicate, and the decapitated head of the Organ player sat a few feet away from his body. Blood seeped out of his corpse, looking for the head, perhaps, that was once attached to the rest of him. Great and mighty death knocked the wine glass off of the comatose Organ- wine mixing with blood, life with death.
“What are you doing here?” said Life.
“Getting my shit together.” said Death, conjuring up the loudest laugh he could ever possibly muster.
The dark hue around him made the air insufferably heavy; the hem of his dark gown feathered out into small ripped pieces of cloth. His cold blue eyes zeroed in on the body of the Organ player- his lips suddenly unable to hold back the black pus seeping through his razor-sharp teeth and out of his chapped lips. He loves dead bodies, he makes beautiful things out of them, for he wears the skin like the expensive coat that it is. He thought that it made him look alive.
“Humans don’t deserve such soft skin.” he often thought. But every time he wore a skin suit, the thorns scattered across his skeletal body punctured through them, and every time that happened, he despised humans even more.