Beware False Music

A short story for your enjoyment

The sound of the music seemed so soothing to my soul. But I remembered, as I woke and got out of bed, that I had no neighbors. I lived in a secluded wooded area. Only trees and wild animals surrounded my house.

Surely it must be my imagination, I thought. As I opened my front door and peered outside, I saw the fog as thick as molasses.

And the music played on and on. It began softly, then got louder and louder and returned to a soft, barely audible hum. Almost like monks chanting ohm.

I stepped out into the fog. A fool thing to do, maybe? But I couldn’t help it. I was drawn to whatever it made that sound. Like a snake being charmed by its master.

The fog enveloped me like a blanket, holding me tight. It was both a warmth and a chill that rushed through me like a hurricane. It made me feel like I was floating.

I was floating. I figured that out when I realized my feet weren’t touching the ground. I could feel nothing solid under me. Just the sense of air. There was no sense of speed or direction. I could barely see two inches in front of me. The fog was like an arm pulling or carrying me to whatever destination it wanted for me.

You know that old trick of pinch yourself when you’re having a nightmare? I couldn’t move my arms to do so. Fear took hold as tight as the grip of the fog around me. What fool was I to come out in this? I just couldn’t resist. The music seemed like it was calling out to me.

As I continued floating through the fog, I would go from a flag of terror to a wave of terror. My hands shaking and my stomach tightening. I lost count of how many times my food from the night before almost came back out of me. All the time I was hoping this was just a nightmare from which I would soon wake.

But I didn’t wake. I came through the fog for what seemed like an eternity. The sound of chanting came through to me going soft and loud and back to soft then back to loud again, over and over. Was I going insane? Or going somewhere else?

My eyes would get droopy. Then, just as I was about to fall asleep when the chanting got soft, I would be blasted awake when a cold draft to my face when the chanting got loud.

How long will this torture last? That’s how I came to see what I was going through. What else could it be? Carried away by the fog, then blasted awake. Some say that sleep deprivation is one of the most effective ways of torture.

It went on and on for what seemed like hours until the fog cleared and below me in a circle were over a dozen people shrouded in robes that covered their whole bodies. They were chanting and every ten seconds one of them would hit the gong in the middle of the circle. Somehow, I was lowered to the ground. I tried screaming for help and nothing came out.

A stone bed raised from the ground and I was laid down on it, shackles secured my wrists and ankles. The one who I presumed to be the leader came up to me and pressed his hand to my forehead, I heard his thoughts, “You have been selected to join our sect. It is an honor bestowed to very few.”

He kept his hand pressed to my head until my will to resist was vanquished and I agreed to join them.