The Music
It started one day at a Veteran's Day parade. It started there, but it didn't end there.
Henry was always sure to go to the Veteran's Day parade every year. His own father had died in the Vietnam War. He had always felt that it was very important to honor those people who had gone through the hell of war. They didn't deserve to have been put through everything that they had been put through, so to make up for it, Henry attended every Veteran's Day parade.
He always saluted the Veterans when they walked by, and told himself it was the most important part of the parade, but deep down inside he loved the big marching bands that accompanied them. He loved the bright, clean uniforms. He loved the shiny, brassy instruments, reflecting off of the sun in an almost blinding way. He especially loved the music. He would have the music stuck in his head for hours and hours after each parade. But it never bothered him because he loved the music so much.
Now he was eating at a café with his girlfriend, Amy. The music was still going through his head from the morning's parade. He engaged her in the usual idle chat that goes with dinner at cafes, but his mind was really only on the music. It came to the point where he started answering everything she said with 'yeah' or just 'mhm.'
He dropped Amy off at her apartment that night, and drove home. The radio wasn't on of course, because that would interrupt the marching tunes blaring in his own mind. He retreated into the darkness of his own room and bed, and lay there, hearing the music as he fell to sleep.
The next morning he woke up, showered, ate, and did all the other things that are customary of mornings. He was only vaguely aware of the brassy music which still continued in his head. He got in his car, and drove to the car dealership where he worked. Only when he turned on his radio did he notice the music in his head. The sounds of the radio and the marching band almost seemed to be competing with each other. Annoyed, he turned off the radio.
At the car dealership that day he found himself humming "Stars and Stripes Forever." Everyone had to call him two or three times before he even heard them. The music seemed to be getting louder.
When he stepped outside into the parking lot that evening he thought he heard another parade. He headed down the street. Apparently he was going in the right direction because the sounds of the bands were getting louder and louder. He noticed uneasily that none of the usual road blocks or police were anywhere to be seen. No one else seemed to be acknowledging the music either. He ran now, convinced that the parade was around each corner that he passed. He began panting and sweat gathered on his forehead. The parade was getting closer; louder. It was almost deafening. He ran harder, as if he was being chased. He kept running, as the sun began to set. His clothes were drenched in sweat and his body felt like it was about to explode, but he couldn't stop running, because he had to find the source of the music. He turned one more corner and let out a scream of fear, or outrage, or confusion. The band wasn't here either. His teeth clenched together, sweat dripped into his eyes, and the music got louder.
He ran through the door to an insurance agency. The music seemed to quiet a bit. It sounded the way parade music sounds when one is a mile or two away from it. He leaned hard against the wall and slid to the ground. His head was pounding. His temples throbbed with each beat of the music. A woman from behind a desk informed him that the store was about to close and that she couldn't help him, but he paid her no heed. He got up and looked nervously out the blinds as if someone was chasing him. The music was getting louder. Finally he acknowledged the woman at the desk.
"Do you hear that!? Do you hear it!?!" he was screaming at her. She looked at him, fear and worry creeping into her expression. She managed to choke it down.
"Hear what sir?" she squeaked.
"The music!! The parade goddammit! Can't you even hear it!? Are you deaf?" he was gesticulating wildly, his anger taking over. The music was getting so much louder.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you--" he couldn't hear her anymore. The music had drowned out her words. Now it seemed to surround him. The entire room was a marching band and all of its instruments were pointed directly at him. He screamed and ran out of the agency.
Now he was running through the streets again, crying and screaming, and clutching his pulsing forehead. Now words seemed to be accompanying the band. Ghosts of words. Whispers, raspy voices, incomprehensible over the music.
"Stop it! Stop it! Just stop it for Christ's sake! STOP IT!" he was screaming now to the stars, to the heavens, as if they had any control over what was happening. "Just stop it," he whimpered. And the music, though it didn't seem possible, grew even louder.
He bumbled into a phone booth and when he managed to shut the door the music seemed to get thunderously loud. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears leaked down his cheeks. His hand grappled for the phone and his fingers reached for the change in his pocket. He forced his arm up to the slot in the phone. His hand shook so controllably that he kept dropping his quarters and dimes. Finally, he managed to get 35 cents into the phone and his trembling fingers struggled over the numbers of the phone. He mashed them all with his hand as he struggled to dial. He placed the quivering phone to his ear and heard an almost inaudible voice tell him that his call could not be connected. "GodDAMMIT!" he was crying out of hopelessness now. He lied in the bottom of the booth for several minutes as the music continued to deafen him. Finally he summoned the strength to try for one more call. But as he reached into his pocket he saw something terrible outside of the booth. A huge silhouette seven feet tall and at least as wide. In the dim light he couldn't make out any details, but he was able to notice pieces of it that seemed to be falling to the ground and melting there. He knew that somehow this creature was the source of all his problems. "What… the… hell?" he said it loudly, but he couldn't even hear himself. The creature seemed to shudder and the inaudible voices in his head suddenly became clear.
Give in. Give in. Do not fight. Give in.
Henry stared in horror at the creature outside. "No…. no… NO!!" with a newfound fury he shoved the remaining change into the phone, and with remarkable accuracy dialed the phone.
GIVE IN.
"NO!!" he cried as the phone began to ring. "…no…" And the music intensified.
Finally over everything he heard Amy's voice. "Hello?"
"Amy…?" he whimpered.
"Um… is that you Henry?" she said apprehensively.
"AMY!!!" he screamed into the mouthpiece of the phone.
"Jesus CHRIST! What the hell is your--"
He cut her off, "Amy! AMY! You gotta help me Amy, you gotta help me… there's this music… Oh God, Amy, make it stop…" his voice was flustered and…
GIVE IN. GIVE IN.
"Make it STOP!!!" he couldn't hear Amy anymore. Not over the music, and over the sounds of the creature. He couldn't hear anything but that. He threw the phone to the ground and screamed as loud as he could, but he couldn't even hear that. So he screamed again and again, and tears fell from his eyes and he pounded with all his strength against the glass of the phone booth.
Do not fight. Give in. Give in. Give in…
"All right…" he whimpered now. "I give up. I GIVE IN!!!" his spirit was crushed now, as he lay there, his hands bleeding, his clothes soaked with sweat, his face contorted into something unnatural. He was nothing. He was defeated. "I give up… I give up…"