Crimson Illusion

Crimson Illusion-Chapter 3-Fire

Cheer up, the worst is yet to come.

 

Alexander’s P.O.V.

I watched as the bright flames licked at the stone of the fireplace. The whips were curling around like beasts in agony trying to free themselves from the torture, but failing time and time again as they were too weak. They were always replaced by other crimson tongues protruding from the core.

The fire was the only source of light in the dark room. That also meant that the fire was free to dance on the walls, floor, ceiling and any other object in the room.

The dance was exotic, never resting or slow. The dancers were energetic, keeping up an even pace at times, then switching to faster steps that made them curl around each other in a sensual way of grasping a fleeting moment that has already passed.

Occasionally, some of the dancers would separate from the group. They would then do a fabulous solo act that lasted only for about a moment. A smidgeon of time, then it would go away. Humans would not be able to see it, but I, as a vampire, sometimes did. And it was a beautiful sight.

The dancers truly were magnificent. And it didn’t matter to which music they danced to, they kept up with the rhythm perfectly. Though, as I’ve noticed, they liked to dance to pianos and violins the most. And to be truthful, it soothed them the most.

Classical music in general, I mean. Many perceived classical music as a weak, forgettable thing, not worth the mention. But if they would only stop for a moment and listen. Listen to the emotion the melodies carried with them. Pain, suffering, joy, happiness, hate, hurt, anger, love and many more.

If I could, I would honestly change the music of the world to only be classical music. Namely a piano and a violin. The magic the two instruments combined can do is something every person should experience.

But business today doesn’t allow that. People tend to turn to more energizing music, saying classical music is slow, boring or even disgusting. They tend not to listen most of the times and they catch only the surface layer of the song and melody.

The surface layer is just the beginning layer of many, many layers to just one composition or melody. That is the layer that tells you the story of the artist, his sorrow, his pain, his love, his everything. But it doesn’t tell you the story of the song.

The song’s story you learn when you listen closely to the, almost bearably heard, background instruments. Like the violoncello for example. The gentleness of it’s sound surprises me every time I hear it, as it is a wonder for something so big that produces a deep, relentless melody, to be so gentle and almost, and I use the term loosely, loving.

In the dead of the night, these songs are able to captivate me. They took my mind from the darkness of my room into an unimaginable whirlpool of thoughts that made me see the world in a whole different light then I was seeing it now.

For instance, how the fiery dancers were also dancing in the glass of whiskey I was holding in my hand. The glass, as all whiskey glasses, was wonderfully decorated and had a heavy feeling, but as the flames surrounded it and sensually touched every surface they could get to, it seems somewhat fragile and weak.

The flames didn’t want to harm the beauty of the glass though, they only wanted to play. A very dangerous game, yes, but a very fun one as well. The game was also torturing and excruciating, burning with the heat of a thousand suns, there seemed to be no end to the suffering.

I played such a game as well, so I could feel sympathy for the wonderful flames. Though I would say that my game was far more serious than the game the flames played. And my game was far more dangerous. But I was sure that when I won, the pleasure would be so much more worth it.