The resonating harmonies of All is Violent flowed from the stereo system that was worth three times as much as Greville's rusted, puke yellow 1974 Datsun 710. “Cartographers of Human Purpose” alternated between deep sonic wells and soaring highs of pulsating sound born on the fingers of master musicians. Greville drove the damp, glistening road, his headlights scintillating on the rough, black stone. His mind was divided between driving and watching his soul rise on the currents of meditative harmonies. The Seeking must go on. He was aware of this and always had been. The drive toward the inexorable fate and goal of his own mortality kept the Datsun moving, chugging and belching to itself as the old engine, poorly serviced, struggled to fulfil its purpose. The stereo was the only thing that worked properly, or anything close to the concept. The dashboard lights flickered as the battery and alternator fought furiously to keep the entire machine running. Each dimming of the light had long since fused into those before and after. Greville saw none of it and heard even less.

Thunderous, pounding violence reached out from the speakers, a fist from the sub-woofer grasping for Greville's heart and soul. Dark riffs punctuated the air like stark colons glittering through the windshield and night beyond. They reached higher and higher, vertiginous swirls swamping Greville's vision. The steering wheel warped and merged into the dark dashboard, taking his hands with it. Greville tried to scream. He thought he did, but no sound could overwhelm the guitars emanating from his speakers like the denizens of the Pleroma.

Looking down at his feet was a mistake. They too had vanished, consumed by the Datsun's lurking shadows and hidden recesses. Waves cascaded. Forces rolled. The winds of deepest Tartarus erupted from the speakers that were feeding Greville's mind and psyche. His entire head now filled with the crescendo of wild, unrestrained guitar solos of which no hint had been given at the start of the twelve minute song.

The great emptiness surged into the core of Greville's mind and he felt his own life and history vanish into the mists that followed. He did not hear it. He much less recognised what it was. “Memory Complete”, the last track of the EP, kicked into its own rhythm. Greville bowed out of his.

#Mindpuke #Horror #Surreal

Endnote: The music that I listened to while writing this was All is Violent, based in Melbourne, Australia. They can be found HERE.

The sand was hot under Reena's feet as she walked with her feet periodically washed by the incoming waves of the Pacific Ocean rolling up the beach. She let herself be lulled by the cooling touch of the salty liquid on her skin. The course massages of the grains under her feet delighted her and recalled times past, times lost in the mist of her own forgetfulness. She struggled to make out faces and sounds, more frustrated with the wasted effort to drag the details from the shadowed recesses of what she thought was there. No faces came forward. No voices called out to her.

Reena's eyes scanned the dunes and the trail of footprints that vanished into the distance behind her. Beyond a few metres, she made out nothing by vague shades and splotches of colour that meant nothing to her. She wanted to turn around and go back to those hues and discover what lay within, but she could not. There was something ahead of her drawing her on, step by trudging step. What was out there, in the dim light of hope that was arrayed before her, she could not say or even guess. Yet, she felt it. The draw of it that reached into her soul and called her on was heavy burden and a lightness in her mind. Hope vied with despair.

Reena moved on, the dim lights slowly closing with her as she struggled on to them. The hues and shadows behind her, a fuzzy wall of incoherence, kept its distance from her. As she moved, it moved. Echoes of people's passing emerged, but nothing more. The further she moved forward towards the destination of her seaside walk, the weaker the vestiges got.

It had seemed an age and more. Aeons had passed like a fleeting wind. Reena stepped. The sand massaged and the waves stopped. The echoes fell silent. The faces merged with the shadows.

#Surreal #Fantasy #ShortStory