INTRO
he night was cold and a mist covered the grassy plains. I was lost, as well as confused as to how I came to be here, and did not know where I was going. A soothing sound beckoned to me, and I could not help but to follow. It was if my will no longer existed.I came to a lush green pasture and a man dressed in darkness was playing a fiddle.
I listened to the soft music and he spoke to me without ever opening his mouth.
He asked me if I remembered dying? "I’m dead?” I retorted. He smiled and kept playing softly.
"Of course.” He said, "that’s why you're here.” Then I remembered that I was hunting in the woods when I was suddenly attacked by a ruthless, youthful gang--cretons, choosing a career in robbery and murder. They beat me to death with their clubs and maces. I remembered the pain…..so much pain all over. I tried to flee, but my broken and bruised body could not muster the strength. I didn’t know where they came from; they just jumped me whilst I was returning home one evening.
s I recalled this, the fiddler played louder, and as he played, more people seemingly coming from out of distant darkness, from all around collected together to form a circle. All of us spoke to each other in whisper, trying to make sense of this new place we have come to. I heard an adventurer say he was ambushed in a dungeon he ravaged for treasure and was certain he had cleared it. Another hunter who slept in a cave was attacked by brigands and beaten to death. We heard the tale of a woman who entered a tomb with the intent to grave rob in order to help pay for her own husband’s funeral. As she pocketed the golden necklace, the draughr swarmed her and tore her throat out with their teeth. We wanted to ask the fiddler what all of this meant? But when we opened our mouths all that came out was screaming that followed his melancholy tune. We witnessed the fiddler on the green grin as he played fiercer and as he played fiercer more screaming could be heard off in the distance. The distant screaming grew louder as more deceased entered the lush green. We were all prisoners trapped in his purgatory. We were all instruments in the fiddler’s orchestra—our deaths, were music to his ears.
I listened to the soft music and he spoke to me without ever opening his mouth.
He asked me if I remembered dying? "I’m dead?” I retorted. He smiled and kept playing softly.
"Of course.” He said, "that’s why you're here.” Then I remembered that I was hunting in the woods when I was suddenly attacked by a ruthless, youthful gang--cretons, choosing a career in robbery and murder. They beat me to death with their clubs and maces. I remembered the pain…..so much pain all over. I tried to flee, but my broken and bruised body could not muster the strength. I didn’t know where they came from; they just jumped me whilst I was returning home one evening.
s I recalled this, the fiddler played louder, and as he played, more people seemingly coming from out of distant darkness, from all around collected together to form a circle. All of us spoke to each other in whisper, trying to make sense of this new place we have come to. I heard an adventurer say he was ambushed in a dungeon he ravaged for treasure and was certain he had cleared it. Another hunter who slept in a cave was attacked by brigands and beaten to death. We heard the tale of a woman who entered a tomb with the intent to grave rob in order to help pay for her own husband’s funeral. As she pocketed the golden necklace, the draughr swarmed her and tore her throat out with their teeth. We wanted to ask the fiddler what all of this meant? But when we opened our mouths all that came out was screaming that followed his melancholy tune. We witnessed the fiddler on the green grin as he played fiercer and as he played fiercer more screaming could be heard off in the distance. The distant screaming grew louder as more deceased entered the lush green. We were all prisoners trapped in his purgatory. We were all instruments in the fiddler’s orchestra—our deaths, were music to his ears.