Requiem For a Ghost Note – Part II
My name is Anton Du Slai. I’m a murderer.
Right now, I’m vibrating. Every color in the spectrum ripples through my brain. It’s another seizure. It brings a new, dark gift much like the first time my body shuddered. This one’s tinged with LSD. It’s how I make the colours turn.
Sound is my drug – synesthesia my trip…each note in the scale of music a color…seven total. I believe there are other notes beyond that…notes so haunting that they guide my hand towards terrible pleasures.
It’s also how I make my deadly masterpieces of music. Every victim’s screams are unique like a snowflake. I feel the shape of their death one note at a time – every performance a tribute to them. But I feel no guilt, no remorse. Their screams, not their life, matter. On sheet music, I document their death.
Under a white hot spotlight, I hide in plain sight, walking amongst you. Shake my hand, feel no warmth. Take a picture with me, see only a shadow where I stand. I’m a lord in the company of chattel. Worship me!
On the stage, I feel almost human. When I kill, I feel like a god. But you’re not ready for this. We’ve only just met.
Only one thing matters right now – your seduction. Boy…girl…I don’t care. Your voice is ripe for harvesting pure, holy terror. Help me to my feet. See me in my fragile state as I lull you into a false sense of being. Mistake that we are somehow equals.
Listen to my words and my voice as I mesmerize you with my celebrity and beauty. You can’t look away as the rest of the world melts behind us. Climb into my black hole of a soul and lose yourself to the inevitable gravity of your death.
With each violent spasm of my body in the throes of agonizing pleasure, I feel my transformation take place into something beyond evolution.
Deep within my being, I see my place in the grand scheme – the cosmic chess match coming like a storm. The moment of my transcendence almost upon me. Help me to my feet so we can gaze into the beauty of our reflections playing out a theater of death and inevitability. You can’t escape my pull.
A reckoning is coming for our time and place of existence. I’ve heard death’s lullaby singing a sickly sweet tune. Men on the other side of the cosmic mirror want to shatter our reality into dust. Men like me are part of their plan.
I look in the mirror and see a murderer staring back at me. He’s ready to escape. Joe Freeman must die. But first you, my darling. First you. Before you die, let me ask you something.
What’s your favourite colour?