February 2011 Writing Challenge — MOSAIX!!

[cornelius]

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The angel and the demon (2.0)

She entered the barrow
And feared not the obscurity below
nor the unsightly monstrosity cloaked by gloom
Darkness his perpetual doom

spiteful speech:

"Do you believe beauty and illustrious light
will withstand the devouring darkness
Of my never-ending night?

you indeed divulge divine delight
Though this brittle beauty will desperately digress
See, the barrow-shades beckon, with menacing might…"


The angel smiled while worms of shadows slithered strong
She summoned her sword
And began her song.

 

[mosaix]

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The Song Is Life

They sang at his Christening.

He sang in school, in church, at the football match and in the pub.

They sang on the boat to France and again, under enemy guns, on a Dunkirk beach waiting evacuation.

He sang at his wedding and they used to hold hands and listen to their song.

He sang at my Christening and at my son's.

He sang at my mother's funeral and I sang at his.

 

[nixie]

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Payment in Kind

" Look we had an agreement, now pay up"

" What agreement? I don't remember any agreement. Now get out of here before I have you arrested".

The musician shrugged

"What's the point"

He turned and left.

When he reached the street, he raised the pipe to his lips .

Children danced and skipped, voices singing in harmony to the music.

They followed him past their homes, playgrounds, schools, out of the town to be seen no more.​

 

[Parson]

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From Death to Life — John Newton
​

Shocking. Me, a preacher?

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.

A slaver in the pulpit?

That saved a wretch like me.

I sentenced people to a deadly voyage and a life of slavery.

I once was lost, but now am found.

A murderer; still, God’s grace flowed freely to me.

Was blind but now I see.

Those I saw as animals are now my kin in Christ.

Grace will change the world. It changed me.

 

[reiver33]

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Encore

Johannes Kepler called it musica universalis, the music of the spheres, but he didn’t realise there were lyrics as well. In duplicating his work I stumbled into a grotesque celestial chorus and cannot escape. Our song of songs dictates whether suns live or die, whether the universe dances this way or that.


It must never cease.

You see only a hoarse madman mumbling on a street corner, clicking calloused fingers in time.


But just listen…

 

[TheDustyZebra]

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The Songwriting on the Wall



Sleeping fitfully, the young musician dreams.

***

Weeping girls line the streets, tossing flowers at a far-reaching funeral procession.

The first limousine holds a golden casket. In the second, his mother cries.

On the radio, he hears,

“Too much fame, too soon? His only hit has been number one for 27 straight weeks:
today, his funeral.”

The song begins to play.


***

The musician awakens abruptly.

Fighting to remember the melody, he scrambles for pen and paper.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

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AZARIAH

They found him starving outside the town gates. Worldly folk, they thought of little beyond the accumulation of wealth. But he sang to them, and their hearts beat not harder but … stronger. So they fed him on scraps, which was unaccustomed charity.

Always something troubled their minds, something their eyes refused to see, as he sang in that voice of aching purity.

They were worldly folk. Twenty years passed before anyone noticed his wings.

 

[TheEndIsNigh]

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Noise cancelling headphones win the day.

As soon as he put them on, he knew they were the best things he had ever bought.
The crew laughed at the cost, but as Captain; for those long boring passages, he
needed something to keep himself sane. Music was the key.


She couldn’t have known; sadly for her, her time had passed.


Damn it though, she was pretty; although she tasted even better.

"More mermaid steak lads?"

 

[No One]

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End of the Trail

Smoke swirled through the low, ethereal, light of the room.

"I can tell the wind is risin', leaves tremblin' on the tree..."

His fingers thrummed strings wet with his tears.

"All I need is my little sweet woman..."

There was silence after the last chord had been played. Then, a ripple of applause, mounting cheers, wild adulation.

He grabbed an open bottle, only hearing what they could not...

The howl of the hound - waiting outside.

 

[Perpetual Man]

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Perfection Building

They sat around the campfire, the old native talking, “Y’see it goes like this, the act of creation is God's song, the overture, the rest is t’song growing, headin’ toward the crescendo, whatever that maybe.”

The expedition leader frowned, “If that’s the case, what about disease, war, pain, murder, hatred - all those things?”

“Y’see, God’s the tune,” his old eyes twinkled, “But we’re the words, and sometimes we sing off-key.”

 

[mirinda]

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Mind Trap​

It ensnares your senses, entraps your mind, drives you crazy with longing. Your worst memories, worst fears are brought to the surface for them to prey upon. You scream but no one hears you, you struggle but no one sees.

They come in blackened cloaks, the most dangerous soldiers of the magic wars. There is no escape, but don’t worry, after all it isn’t really happening. It’s the illusion of the song.​

 

[StormFeather]

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Behind Blue Eyes​

With raging fury it lashes out, smashing everything in sight. Bellowing it’s pain. Needing to hurt. Destroy. To inflict as much agony as it felt.

At the pinnacle of devastation it collapses in upon itself, sobbing wretchedly in it’s grief, pain and sorrow. Curling into an ever smaller ball of utter emptiness, it is bereft.

Pointless.

Frustration at it’s weakness grows. The cycle begins anew.

A twisted, scarred and lonely beast.

My beast.

My soul.

 

[crys]

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Cecilia​

Heavenly lily, an angel draws down,
Dual patroness of musician and blind.​

Of sev’n is one, noble lady of Rome,
Courage pours forth from harmonist divine.​

Pay homage to Jove, the king of the gods,
Or torture endure according to law.​

Though in her bath burn’d and in her blood bath’d,
Thrice butchery failed while she sang to God.​

Her inner vision, a light in the dark,
Pious romance, her celestial song.​

 

[goldenapples]

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The Calendar Bird

The song bird woke him in the new house and he could not sleep. Nor could he block out the light. The bird was silhouetted on the high sill. He shaded his eyes when the song repeated. That was how each day started. On the seventh day the song was seven times louder. At the start of each month, it was deafening. By new year, he was no longer listening to the calendar bird’s song.

 

[Moonbat]

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How I learned to stop the silence and love the song


The IED exploded and my world went quiet….

Shipped home, I lived in hospitals until the operation returned the sense I had lost. The world sounded distant but the silence crowded me. In the muffled echoes I heard the songs of battle, the a cappella screams of dying heroes, so I started singing.

“Why do you sing?” She asked.
“It gives me pleasure.” I lied.

I sing to stop the silence.

 

[HoopyFrood]

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iPod People

An entire generation with earphones plugged in. They were so susceptible to popular trends, too.

Attach it to adverts, play it in bars, join it to amusing memes. By the time it reached the top of the charts, few devices were without it.

With a predetermined trigger, millions of nature’s hard drives were wiped clean.

Vacant eyes and empty faces were the only outward signs; it took a while for parents to even notice.

 

[Karn Maeshalanadae]

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Subject Twelve, Experiment Nine​

“Onto Subject Twelve, experiment nine.”
Subject twelve was corralled into a small twelve-by-twelve room covered in thick padding. He swallowed nervously, shaking visibly.
“Experiment nine is about to begin.”
Within ten minutes he was screaming.
“Stop the music! STOP THE MUSIC!”
“Experiment nine was a success. No subject has been able to withstand the Barney the Dinosaur theme song.”

 

[Heck Tate]

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Last Request

The string quartet played on in the corner. Whether they were completely oblivious to, or trying to enhance the panic in the room, I knew not. My drink was empty but the musical rapture carried me beyond sobriety. The rest of the room stared at me as I shouted requests to the cellist, but I saw no harm in it. We were all about to die, the least we could ask for was good music.

 

[The Judge]

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Freedom’s Air

Beyond my cell, a bird sings. Its skein of song
Reminds me why I fought, why others yet
Defy the tyrant state.
The silver notes each morning bring
Resilience,
And rising hope of freedom’s dawn.

My gaolers kill the bird.

I hold its broken body and I mourn,
Fearing daybreak’s silence.
Daybreak comes... and two birds sing.
Beyond my cell, my steadfast people wait.
Tomorrow morning brings the scaffold, yet
The song goes ever on.

 

[J-WO]

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Mikhail's Divas

AK-47s are perfect. They never jam, never break.
They also think. An unintended feature.

Unknown to us, they sing to one another; auto-arias of love across cut-price battlefields.

Kak-kak-kak, calls one in the dusty night.

Pop-pop, replies another.

When an Ak's user dies, another human will soon pick it up. The songs continue.

Ak-47s are perfect, innocent. Pure.

They wish only to sing.