The Music

By Charli C.

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It was music, spoken in a tongue I could not understand; Boisterous revelry, like a celebration.

But the music was wrong in a way I couldn't describe. I shivered uncomfortably. Something

about It was shifting, and oddly ominous, ever changing in volume and tone; filtered in from

some other place in space and time. Still, I stood silently in the dark, trying to see deep into the

twisted wood where trees protruded like gnarled fingers from the Earth, fingers that shielded my

eyes from the ineffable. Whatever was on the other side of the trees, whatever daemon ritual echoed in the cold night, I longed to see. To lay my eyes on realms where twisting masses of

flesh whirled in the dark under strange stars in an undying dance to the blasphemous piping of

flutes and the worship of wild pagan gods. But I knew if I had peered beyond the grove, despite the flickering lights and loud voices, the clearing would be empty.