Hidden dreams

Chapter Five.

Ash slipped into his house, staring at the napkin with numbers hastily written on it. He let his mind wander back to the events at the shop. 

                He slid his bow back and forth furiously. His music seeming to paralyze the customers with its unearthly sound. He moved around the store eying the people memorized by his heavenly music that flowed through their ears and coursed, pumped through their bodies. His darkness called out to him, eating away at his self-control as it always did.

                It told him to let it wrap itself around their minds. Then kill them, all of them.

                No mercy, no remorse.

                It was more desperate than usual. Called out to him more strongly, pleading with him. Almost begging…almost.

                He closed his eyes as he swayed back and forth to the music as he played furiously. His heart was beginning to pump faster and faster he was going through the human blood too fast. As if the more he ate the more he starved.

                He almost gave into the darkness’s ghoulish request. He could feel it creep from its dark corner in his mind and inch its way down it was so close to the woman with a rainbow scarf wrapped around her neck. Hiding it, it angered him greatly.

                It was right, he could pick them off one by one.

                He could rip them apart drink them dry, paint the walls crimson, scarlet, with their blood. He could leave this store in chaos. And no one would ever know who did it. Never.

                He could lay low go to the ashes and wake again when he felt ready. But he knew the risk and the pain and hunger that would bring.

                He quickly built his way to the crescendo and as he worked his way closer and closer the darkness grew stronger and stronger yet. It became his armor from the world shielding him away from everything that could possibly make him feel hurt or remorse.

                It was his strength but his greatest weakness. In a split moment he broke of the song. Instantly the people fell from their trance, they looked around in awe and stun. Some left, others clapped but after they had finished one still clapped. A slow deliberate clap, the clap itself held praise for him.

                The man wore a grey over coat, under it a lighter grey sweater, with a black scarf and black work pants. He had greying curly hair that still had bits of black inter midst its curls. He was pudgy but his face was worn with time and wisdom.

                He looked enchanted by him. He quickly put out his hand which he took lazily. The man clasped his hand tightly with both hands. But Ash seemed unfazed.

                “You were amazing. Your music moved me in ways that even I cannot comprehend.”

                Ash tilted his head studying the man. He had a thick French accent and his voice sounded worn down. Ash nodded suddenly tired and worn from the darkness’s constant screaming.

                “Yes, yes but look I have my daughter to look after who is alone sick I would like to hurry things along so that I may go look after her.” The man’s eyes narrowed, but he quickly took a coffee stained napkin out of his pocket and scurried over to the counter. Ash packed his things and was about to leave when the man caught his arm and held out the napkin to him with number hastily written upon it. Ash shook off the pudgy man and snatched the napkin from his polish stained hands.