Theme Song #33

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Davion, Oct 12, 2012.

  1. In the spirit of Halloween, we're going with something that's a bit haunting in its style
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    Music touches people in different ways. Many people enjoy listening to music for inspiration,
    and others simply listen to it to relax. Some songs tell stories while others allow you to make your own story.

    Your challenge:

    Listen to the song above then take a minute or two to think about it.

    Write out a scene to this song; make this song your scenes theme song.

    Let me know what you see when you listen to this music.
  2. Re: Theme Song #28

    A ballerina in the middle of a vast and empty stage
    the spotlight shines on her brightly.
    Dancing is her Life

    She twirls and spins, leaps and jumps,
    Hitting each step with almost perfection...

    She had spun and took a foot out of place
    A sudden flash and her finger, was instantly gone...
    She howled at the torturing pain, but only for a split second.

    Blood flowing down her arm, she continued dancing.

    A right, a left, then a right where instead should be another left.
    Her hand, had fallen to the floor,
    But the will to dance continued on...

    Step after step that seemed to match the beating quiet of the stage.
    And with each step came a mistake, to each mistake a sacrifice was made.
    She pushed and pushed on through the immortal torture....

    By the End of her performance

    Nothing was to show

    except two.
    pirouetting in a circle
    And her Will to Dance
  3. What was it that made people so afraid of dolls? She did not understand, for she could only remember them fondly as her companions through the years. They were her loyal friends, supporters. They even protected her from the figments of her imagination when she was still young: they chased away the shadows that seemed to be monsters and they fought off the nightmares. They became people in her mind, true companions with whom she could enjoy her isolation. She did not realise that these very same qualities were the ones that frightened people the most. Dolls seemed to be capable of replacing them so easily as if they could trap their souls, not to mention that there was something inheritently frightening about what was human yet not.

    She, who has not seen the world except for the dolls that she was given and the books she read, could not understand why the protagonists of her books seemed to be so wary of dolls. She, who has been locked into a Platonic Cave that consisted of a mere room, could not see why would anybody be afraid of something that gave her limitless comfrot, something that gave her what she did not have in her life. She treated her dolls as if they were real people, thinking of them as personifications of her favourite characters. She admired their nature, as even with her limited knowledge, she could fix them in mere hours with the various tools in the room. Her whole life revolved around the dolls and she did not spend even a second without holding one in her hands. She was so fascinated by them that during the years, it did not occur to her to escape the room at all.

    But as all things, her paradise met its end when the door to the outside was finally opened, revealing to her the world that was once outside her perspective. From beyond the door came overwhelming light that flooded her eyes, brightness the likes of which she was not used to. From beyond the door arrived a group of soldiers that were lead by a man with a blue, snowflake-like necklace in his neck. He tried to speak to her, but she could not understand him, for even though she could read fluently, she had not heard a single word before. Similarly, she could not speak, because she was never spoken to in the first place. She could not even understand the expression of the man, which was a frown that conveyed absolute confusion, as she did not react to any of the sounds he made.

    After wasting a considerable amount of time, the man merely shrugged and approached her bookshelf. He scanned the bookshelves for a dictionary, but he found none, so he just took the largest book on the shelf. He then stood in front of her, opened the book, then started pointing to words on the page.

    "Are you aware of your nature?" asked the man, then he passed the book to her. She took the book from him.
    "Who are you?" she pointed to the words.
    "My name is not in this book, nor any of your books. You can call me ice storm."
    "That is an interesting name."
    "Yes, but you are forgetting the question. Are you aware of your nature?"
    "What is my nature?"

    To that question, the man merely sighed, then said something to one of his soldiers. The soldier disappeared and returned quickly with a full-body mirror, which he then placed against the wall. The man calling himself ice storm just took her hands, then guided her towards the mirror... Then she screamed. All her life, she never noticed the signs, for she did not know how humans looked. Only now she could tell that her fingers, her elbows, her shoulers, her neck, her jaws, her mouth, her eyes, her torso, her legs, her feet, her every joint was clearly visible against her snow white skin with their black lines. Just like her dolls and completely unlike the clean, skin-coloured skin of the man beside her.
  4. A small boy holds onto his sister’s hand tightly. She is not much older than he is but she looks unafraid as they walk along the dark dimly lit hallway. It is like those old movies where the small children get killed at the end. He closes his eyes depending entirely on his sister’s guidance. He does not know how long they’d been walking when he senses her stop. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze indicating they’d reached the end and it was time to open his eyes.

    Like old frozen windows his lids lift and stare at the dark red door before them. He does not know where it leads and every fiber of his being is telling him to run, to get away from this place. It was his father’s idea to come here, not theirs. Unlike his sister he shivers and a small whimper comes from his lips. She looks down at him, a good head taller, and smiles. It is an attempt to reassure him everything is going to be alright but he knows better, he’d seen all the movies and knows all the tricks. He may be young but his parents had let him watch every horror film he’d ask of them. It was at times like these he wished he hadn’t.

    The knob turns slowly and the door squeals as it was opened without the aid of either child. The boy cringes and takes a step back. His sister remains where she stands, shoulders back and head held high. She was not going to let them intimidate her, she was not going to let them win. She looks back at him and gives him another smile this one a little more reserved than the last. It is harder to put on a brave front when she herself has become afraid.

    Darkness was before them though the door was wide open. There was nothing behind it, no sound, no light, it was as if the darkness had consumed everything. She took a tentative step forward and paused at the rim of the door. They’d been told to go there, to walk through that door. It was a direct order from their father, the only person they were not allowed to disobey, it was engrained in their very being. Still, she hesitated.

    The girl took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her grip tightened ever so slightly on her younger brother’s hand. It was time to go. He did not want to, he was terrified. She could feel him trembling beneath her fingers. If she did take him with her now he would be punished and that was far more terrifying. Another look behind, her eyes meeting his, understanding dawned on him and he nodded his head slowly. They did not need words, they never needed words to talk to each other.

    Turning her full attention to the darkness she took a step in followed closely by her brother. Their footsteps echoed in the blackness for a few seconds before going silent. Their existences were gone, the lights went out, the door closed with a bang, and all that was left of the two children were the fleeting images of the two walking hand in hand to the same door every year on the anniversary of their deaths; December 8th 1986.