Memory Lane

Prologue

There had always been a crazed man. His existence was as inevitable as death. His existence provided plenty of death, and struck choruses of fear. Screams rang out as he plucked each string.
He was not a murderer, he never wielded a dagger. He was a conductor. He manifested a symphony so horrific and beautiful, children may hum the tune of his notes that crashed upon the ears of bystanders with such force. He knew the power of words, and power knew him.
It seemed all knew him, insanity most of all. This unsavory companion remained with the man for most of his life, the only one who could. When the man looked back at his ensemble as he choked on his own sorrow, he remembered this faithful friend well. It haunted him everywhere it went, so persistent. It shadowed him and his iron will. But both had shaky knees, and crumbled like the cities beneath their corpse.
He had been sent spiraling into a crash course, destined to not only change history, but become history. His hazy eyes were known throughout the desolate land, and hands quivered and rolled as the starved whispered the name that they all remembered. Who could forget? Though all wished they could.
Especially the thin man, whose lip shook when his name was called. The quiet, desperate whispers of those left behind in the debris of his destruction. His head reared in his slumber, and bloodshot eyes watched over as they called out to him.