The Day The Music Killed

I was mowing my lawn. Haha. that seems like such an average day. I wish it had been. Anyways I was mowing my lawn, I had my iPod in, and I was feeling good listening to my favorite songs. But that's when something unusual happened. I heard a strange beat streaming in through my headphones. It was one that I'd never heard before, which was strange because this iPod was new and I didn't have a lot of songs. But it was there nonetheless. The beat was strange, unlike any I'd heard before. It seemed to be something like a mix between dubstep and heavy metal. Then came the words. Those words. They were the most disturbing words I'd ever heard in my life. They brought me close to puking. They talked about... they talked about me... dying. And horribly too. Every description was of the most gruesome and disturbing death I could imagine, until I heard the next verse which would be even worse. Getting my eyes torn out by some serial killer, having my limbs slowly removed while I was tied up, being held as a slave and raped until death. It was awful. I tore my headphones out and pulled my iPod out of my pocket and unlocked it.

I went to my music and looked at the song that was playing. There was no album cover. No band. No song name. Just the bar that shows the length of the song and how far along you are. Well, this one had 0:00 on each end, but the little dot was stuck at the beginning. I could still hear the song coming out of the headphones. I pulled my headphones out and then the song began to come out the speakers. I tried to pause the song but it wouldn't work. Nothing happened. I tried to turn the iPod off but it wouldn't. The song just wouldn't quit. So I ran into my garage, took a hammer out of my toolbox, and smashed that iPod into dust. Finally the song was gone, but it continued to run through my mind, and no matter what I did, I couldn't forget it. I remembered every word. As I went to bed, I prepared myself for a restless night, but to my surprise I fell right to sleep.

I wish I hadn't. I dreamed of that song all night, and all the things it described. It was the worst night of my life, but I couldn't seem to wake up. I was stuck in the dream. Finally, at noon, I woke up drenched in sweat, crying. Those dreams were the most vivid I'd ever had. It took me an hour to drag myself out of my bed and into the shower, but I finally did it. After my shower, I felt a tiny bit better, and decided to head into the city. I arrived in New York after about 20 minutes and made my way to Grand Central Station. I don't know why, I guess I just thought that the business would maybe help get my mind off the song. I sat on a bench for a while and then went walking around. That's when things went bad. As I was walking, I heard someone humming. And then I realized what song they were humming. It was the exact same song that I'd heard the day before. Then the humming became singing and those awful lyrics started pouring into my head. I turned to my right to where the sound seemed to be coming from.

My eyes fell upon a man that was facing the wall, singing that awful song. As soon as I looked at him, he whipped around to make direct eye contact with me. His eyes seemed blank but his mouth curved into an evil grin. I was paralyzed with fear. He reached down, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a handgun. My legs finally sprang into action. I ran a couple steps and then went sliding along the floor as he pulled the trigger. The bullet was above me and somehow managed not to hit anyone. It hit the wall on the other side of the room. Mass panic ensued. I was carried along with the tidal wave of innocent bystanders but managed to see security guards tackle the man to the ground. I let the shock wave carry me outside in time to see police arriving. I slipped out of the confusion and began to run along the sidewalk towards where I had parked my car. I reached my car and hopped in, jamming the key into the ignition and twisting it. I raced home, locked all the doors and windows, took my AR-15 out of my gun safe, and sat in the living room. I sat like that all through the night, too terrified to move. But the next day was Monday, and I had a job. I was a pencil-pusher in a cubicle, but it was a job nonetheless.

I didn't shower or brush my teeth or anything. I just got in my car and went. I arrived at the office building with my AR-15 under my seat and terror in my heart. I forced myself inside and slumped into my cubicle chair. I was just logging into my computer when I realized that something was wrong. There was no noise. No typing. No talking. No printing. Silence. And then, the worst thing that could possibly happen did happen. The lights went out. Silence and darkness. I sat with pure terror and dreaded the thought of what I knew was going to happen. The singing began. It seemed to come from all corners of the office. That awful song. And it was being sung by a lot of people. It would've sounded beautiful if the words weren't so hideous. I crawled out of my cubicle and into the next one down, curled up under the desk against the wall by the entryway, and prepared myself for the worst. The singing began to move closer and all around the office. They were looking for me. I know they were. They were looking to kill me. Somehow that song had infected everyone's mind and I was now the victim of some sick hunt. I heard a single voice get louder, closer. I saw two shoes enter the cubicle, and then turn around and walk out. They were searching every cubicle trying to find me.

And then, when I thought that things were at their worst, the music stopped. It was somehow even worse than the singing, because I knew there were dozens of people looking for me that wanted to rip me to pieces. I crawled out of my cubicle and towards the door of the office. It was agonizingly slow, but I was making progress. When I was just about to the door, the lights turned on and there was a group of people standing in a semicircle on the other side of the door. And these people were worse than the man from two days before. These people's eyes were clear of everything. Just the whites of their eyes. They all wore that same demonic grin as the man from before. I stood up, and shot out the door, with a rush of footsteps behind me. I raced down the hallway and hit the elevator button. Thank God the elevator was already on my floor. I hopped in the elevator, pressed lobby, and jammed the door close button. But there were no footsteps rushing me. I looked up as the doors were closing and saw all my demonic coworkers standing at the hallway with those devilish grins, foaming at the mouth, just watching me. I pushed my car to the limit going home, sitting with my AR-15 on my lap, and drained of all energy. I dragged myself inside, locked all the doors and windows once again, and stood in the kitchen wondering what to do. I grabbed a pillow and some blankets, and went downstairs. I shut and locked the door at the top of the stairs, and did the same thing to my door at the bottom of the stairs. I then went into the bathroom and set myself up to sleep in the bathtub.

I woke up after a few hours and decided to turn on the TV to maybe give myself a small distraction. The television turned on to the news, and I dropped the remote. The news anchors were sitting, staring at the screen, and singing. It seemed that once my TV was on, they began to sing louder and the evil in their contorted grins seemed to intensify. Their eyes followed me as I moved. Then, they showed my house, with people surrounding it, and that awful song emanating from their horde. I shut off the TV and heard windows shatter upstairs. I heard thumping footsteps make their way to the top basement door. I heard axes splitting the wood and finally the door giving way. As I heard them make their way to the bottom door, I was surprisingly calm. I began to hum, and then to sing. The smashing of the door began, but I wasn't scared. I already had the barrel of my gun in my mouth before I realized what song I was singing.

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