Curiosity of the Dead Music

by Doodle

When life takes away something you never had, what do you do? How do you know it was taken away? Easy, you borrow the feeling from someone else. You probably borrow fear from scary stories and love from romances. Maybe you lack adventure and then you watch it on an action movie.

Well, what about happiness? How can anyone really display happiness? How can you attempt to explain first love? Mostly, how can you try to mention the craving we all feel when we have a choice to be safe, or to feed our curiosity. We rarely ever choose safety. Look at rock climbers and sky divers.

Now look with me to a young girl who wants to satisfy her curiosity about death. Why should I not jump? Why should I ignore my craving to go to that beautiful music at the very bottom of the cliff? The sweet music that only I can hear! My friends can't hear the music so they don't understand my craving to hear the words better. My need to see the person playing it. Maybe the thing playing it... I really don't care!

I needed to hear it better! One little jump and I would be able to hear the rhythm perfectly! One little step... wow! Each note is a little fairy dancing around my head! Dancing and well... pulling me. All of a sudden I was panicking! I was being dragged down to the music, but know it wasn't sweet! It was the song only meant to be heard by the dead! The dead who had never given up on life! The music was overbearingly sweet, but had a hint of a hatred, like a master musician who hates the instrument.

The little fairies were now not just a simile. They were now not even fairies anymore. They were ghosts. Grabbing on to me like they had a substance other than a cloud like mist. Like they could reach in and drag me out of my body! So they could have it. So they could feel happy and feel all there emotions... well besides misery, they always felt that.

"Let me go!" I yelled, even though they weren't technically touching me. One of the ghosts looked at me and seemed to say with its eyes, "why would you let go of life? Why something so important? Does it matter that we don't let go of hope?" the canyon was coming closer now.

"Hello," said a rough scratchy man's voice. "Welcome to the other side." He was very calm. He was holding his hand out and I took it. It was cold, not the cold of someone who just came in from a snow storm, a cold of someone who never felt warmth. A cold of the dead.

"Curiosity is very powerful, you people think you control everything." He said more to himself. "too bad you let it control you."


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