I don’t really hear the music anymore, in fact, it’s been quite some time since it went. However, this doesn’t mean he is gone, no, he is anything but gone. He’s proven to me that he can find other, more powerful ways to get under someone’s skin. Let’s just say, it’s not hard for him to make others do his bidding, making everyone in your life turn against you to draw out the process of death even more and make you suffer until he’s done with you. It’s almost as if he has some kind of grasp and control over the world around him, molding and shaping it to his desire.
He’s caused me to have visions, visions that are unsavory at best and feel so real. Just the other night, I knew he was there but I couldn’t see him. I was lying in bed, nearly dozing off, when I heard what sounded like a metal click. I looked over to see what appeared to be chains that had somehow formed around my hand and connected to the bed frame, locked by an industrial sized padlock. However, the moment I knew I was really in for something was when I heard the wall behind me begin to crack.
This wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t sleep on the second story of my house. The wall cracked more and more until it eventually crumbled. Leaving a gaping hole behind. At which point the floor began to tilt as the bed slowly inched closer and closer towards the now non-existent wall. Soon, I could see over the edge and, right as the bed began to fall, I noticed something, there wasn’t any ground outside my house.
It was just an empty black void with my house seemingly suspended by nothing. I looked down towards my feet one last time to see the silhouette of that man waving mockingly at the foot of the bed. I then took the plunge straight into the darkness, while the only thing illuminated were these, what I can only refer to as, twisted shapes resembling horrified expressions. They were singing, but it was distorted and otherworldly. I haven’t the faintest clue what they were saying, but the chant was ear splitting.
After that, for a split second, I swear I landed on the stage of what looked to be a very rundown theatre. I looked around and noticed some chairs sitting in a circle. I then woke up in my bed with my heart still pounding and, quite eerily, I could hear laughter. That isn’t that unlike what I’ve read about him online either, as apparently, I’m not the only one to have encountered The Music Man, a moniker given to him by his own victims. I’ve talked with several other people who have had run-ins with him before.
One of which has recently become a great friend to me. We’ll just call him Johnny. He’s asked me to keep his name secret for fear that everyone will think he’s a nutcase if word gets out. He tells me that this guy is spreading like the plague in our town. He seems to think there’s a correlation to someone paying him and then him stalking them in return. That’s how he catches them at their most vulnerable, when they’re just doing something from the kindness of their heart, something anyone would do, much like what I did.
He’s also read up on how the music industry had a very large impact on our town in the early 1800’s. He thought it would help us better understand our musically inclined proverbial boogeyman. Johnny says that his research shows that one story in particular seems to stand out amongst the others. It is the story of one man in particular, a man who was widely known for his musical performances, but not loved for them. He was a man who spoke his mind in a time when tensions were high and doing that was seen as taboo, a man who got bullied and beaten simply for sharing his beliefs through song.
He was ridiculed and belittled daily until it got so bad that, eventually, someone with a real axe to grind, savagely bludgeoned him to death in the dressing room of the old theatre. That person was never caught. There isn’t a doubt in our minds that that man became the one we call The Music Man post death. Forgive me for saying this but, it’d be an understatement to say that I somewhat understand why someone who went through that would have a vendetta. But, the question is, why us?
I don’t think we have any ties to that story, at least, not that I know of. However, speaking of ties, there does seem to be a link to what the others and I are experiencing. Everyone that I’ve spoken to online, including Johnny, say they are now hearing his voice in their heads, distant but audible. They all say he’s no longer singing, but instead chanting in an unknown language. I’d describe it as a sort of beckoning.
Like he wants that we should be somewhere we’re not. But, that isn’t where it stops either. No, each of us have spoken about how we’re becoming weaker, almost to the point of passing out sometimes. The problem with that is, we all have immaculate sleep schedules and no history of any illness. It didn’t start happening until we began hearing his chant. What game is he playing?
This morning, the others and I held an interesting video call. I say interesting because, whilst we were all talking about last night’s encounters if you know what I mean. We all collectively became very drowsy, seemingly suddenly. If I’m not mistaken, I believe we all passed out. I can’t really speak for the others, but what I saw upon being unconscious was odd.
I was back in that theatre, the rundown old theatre I’d seen before. Only this time, I wasn’t on the floor of the stage, I was in a chair. Everyone else was also there, sat in a circle. And then there was him, the malicious, black silhouetted figure we’d all come to know, standing right in the middle. In front of him was what appeared to be a very vintage style projector, the kind you’d expect to see in a place such as this.
I didn’t have time to take in the scenery much longer before he spoke. He said something unsettling, he said, “I’m here to erase every bit of the lineage of the one that ended my life. And guess what, it starts with each and every one of you.” Just then, I felt something tighten around my elbow. I looked down to see that chair arms had wrapped themselves around my arms as well as everyone else’s.
Now, we were trapped. Even worse than that, we all tried screaming, but it proved futile as it seemed no sound could leave our mouths. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of the projector as it fired up. The image it then displayed was of some woman making breakfast, but in the background of the image was what appeared to be one of the kids slumped over at his computer. The silhouetted man then leaned towards that same kid and said, “Recognize her?”
At this point, the kid began to cry. But the man showed no emotion as he began to sing. He sang about how hot grease and how it sticks to as well as melts the skin when in contact, then he sang about how blunt force trauma from a fall can kill. The last song he sang was a song of how it feels when a knife pierces your heart. Everyone looked over at the projected image and, sure enough, everything he sang was currently happening to her.
She was on fire, screaming for her life. Then, we all woke up, but something was off, one of the video feeds was filled with smoke. It was from that kid’s mom. We watched as he practically lunged toward, but this life saving attempt quickly failed when he slipped on some oil and fell right on to her, cracking her head on the floor and knocking down a knife holder from the counter as he went. Practically every knife in there stabbed directly through both of them and ended their lives.
We quickly found their address and called the paramedics and the fire department. At that point, I couldn’t stand seeing it on my screen anymore so I shut down my computer. Now, hours later, I’m stuck with a question. How did all of that really happen if it came from a vision? I may not have time to find out before he calls upon us again.