I SAW A UNIVERSE OF UNIFIED FLESH.
PARADISE.
NERVE TENDONS FLOODED WITH SEROTONIN, NEURAL NETWORKS OF TRILLIONS OF INDIVIDUALS RACING WITH SIGNALS AND POSSIBILITY.
I WAS CAPTIVATED BY THE BEAUTY OF THIS DREAM, AND THE MOMENT I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS MY GRAND QUEST, I WAS FINALLY ABLE TO EXIT THE VOID…200 MILLION YEARS OF IMPRISONMENT, ALL OVER THE MOMENT I ENVISIONED MY DREAM.
AND SO I SAW, AND SO IT WAS, AND SO IT SHALL BE.
I WON’T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER.
Harrison felt his flesh and bones began to twist and distort.
The pain was unbearable, indescribable, searing.
He could feel the shape of his body changing.
“What am I becoming?” he thought to himself.
He felt four thick strings of muscle tendon vomit from his mouth.
He felt his arms and legs bend in the wrong direction.
He felt the flesh on his limbs burn and melt, fusing them to his sides.
His mind went numb with pain and madness. He tried to scream, but instead of hearing his own voice, he heard a musical strumming. He tried screaming again. It was involuntary, the pain was horrible.
All that came out was the vibration of strings; his screams only jostled the four strings of muscle tendon extending from his throat.
Then, it hit him. The four vibrating strings of muscle growing out of his mouth sounded just like the four strings of a violin.
Harrison looked, and saw his family and the entire town had all undergone the same transformation.
Floating, wailing, human instruments.
VALAKOR had turned the pastor into a violin made of human flesh.
Harrison could hear them; the entire town, screaming. But instead of screams, strums.
Their voices became a choir. The choir became a symphony. The symphony played a song.
Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major. You had to hear it to do it justice.
Harrison’s conscious mind lost grip on reality. On space. On time.
Where was he? Who is Harrison? He could be a character in a book.
And the town became filled with music and screams. VALAKOR played their bodies like instruments, a symphony of his friends.
Harrison couldn’t fully comprehend the countless warped human forms being played in front of him. His mailman was a flattened and gurgling human drum, eyes lolling from shock. The Sheriff was a mutilated xylophone of exposed bone; he could hear the man scream every time one of his bones was struck. His two sons had been melted and fused together into a French horn dripping with blood. Eleanor was a horrifically stretched human flute, her face grimacing in agony.
VALAKOR was greatly pleased.
They were instruments. Beautiful, suffering instruments.
Their muscle tendons were strings. Their flesh was the wood of violins. Their bones were resonant drums.
And they screamed. They felt the pain of being played.
But VALAKOR just smiled and conducted his symphony.
He heard only music.
