The Beast Made of Ink

Chapter 22: The Music

-Your P.O.V.-

You really didn't want to, but you knew that if you wanted to survive, then you must get up. You could just tell that your panic attack had yet to cease, but what other choice did you have? Wait and possibly be attacked by those ink beings again? No way.

Sitting yourself up, axe in hand, you made your way back up the opposing staircase, and to your shock, the light was on. What was once nothing but a black space between pieces of wood was now a large stage that had many orchestral instruments on it. You recognized all of them from back when Henry had his orchestra phase.

"Bass, drum, violin..." You listed off a few in your head as you grazed your eyes from right to left at the sight in front of you. However, you found yourself pausing as your eyes landed on a lone Bendy cutout. For one reason or another, the cutout reminded you somewhat of the monster that had just saved you.

You quickly shook that idea out of your head. It may have seemed like the ink being saved you, sure. And all signs do point towards the fact that they did indeed save your life, but what motive could it possibly have to help you? In all honesty, there could be thousand of motives for the ink creature, but you highly doubted that a motivation for that guy came from the goodness of its heart. The ink thing seemed just a little to... vicious for such pure intentions. Although nonetheless, you shouldn't doubt without solid proof.

With a sigh, you turned over to the cassette and pressed play as you began to listen to the audio log.

.........

"Every day the same strange thing happens,I'll be up here in my booth, the band will be swinging, and suddenly Sammy Lawrence just comes marching in and shuts the whole thing down. Tells us all to wait in the hall."

.........

"Sammy Lawrence... I think that was the name of the musical director, according to that sign" You thought to yourself as the tape continued.

.........

"Then I hear him. He starts up my projector, and he dashes from the projector booth and down to the recording studio like the little devil himself was chasing behind.

.........

"Well, he's not so little anymore" You whispered with a scoff as the tape continued its recording.

.........

"Few seconds later, the projector turns off. But Sammy, he doesn't come out for a long time. This man is weird. Crazy weird.

I have half a mind to talk to Mr. Drew about all this. But then again, I have to admit. Mr. Drew has his own peculiarities."

.........

The tape finished off with its classical whir, leaving you standing there in silence with the fact in your head that some random dude just sat in a room with nothing to do for a long time every single day. Was life really that boring before technology? You didn't think so, after all, you left your phone in your car when you got here. Not like you needed it for entertainment.

"But maybe I needed it to call for help..." You thought with a regretful sigh as you turned your body over to the projector. It took you some work and a bit of fiddling, but before you knew it, the projector was up and running. There, on a familiar white sheet, the cartoon began its play. It must've been a Halloween special of some kind, as Bendy the dancing demon along with a skull popped out from behind a grave simultaneously, looked around for one another, then retreated back down. You watched this clip for what felt like hours with a bored expression upon your face. The ink was starting to dry, and with its dryness, it began to flake. You sincerely hope that the substance didn't stain your H/C hair, because that would just suck ass.