A little thing I had to write for my AP Lit class...

The Dirge

Our tale begins on a cold winter day, in an old house, one that had lasted through history and still maintained the dignity and grandness of when it was just built.

But the house of Mr. Adrian Madd was a sad one, it had an aura of despair and hopelessness about it, and its lone resident was not much happier.

Adrian Madd was once a wealthy business man in his prime, content with his wife and two children. But a horrible accident took his family away, and he became a recluse, no longer bothering to make merry with the conventions of society. The only contact he had was with his maid, who came once a week to stock up her food and to clean the house.

But there was one other who lurked about, in the shadows, in the darkness.

As Adrian stared dejectedly at the photo of his family, a voice hissed, “Madd… Madd… Madd…”

Adrian dropped the photo and searched wildly for the source of the voice, “Who are you?”

But there was no further reply, and after walking throughout the house, Adrian decided to go to bed, dismissing the voice a result from his tiredness.

…

A white fog all around him. He could only make out the silhouette of circles around him and a repetitive tick-tock, tick-tock.

“Young man… I feel an unhealable wound in you.”

Adrian turned and saw an old man sitting on a flat rock, leaning heavily on his cane. A deep blue cloak was draped around him, and on the back of it was emblazoned an eye. “Old man, where am I?”

The old man ignored the question, drew a pack of cards, and shuffled them absently, “Let me read your future.”

He laid the first card on the rock, “The Tower.”

The second card, “The Devil.”

The third card, “Death.”

The old man shook his head sadly, “A dreary future indeed. I wish you luck, traveler. You will need it.”

Frustrated by the vagueness of the old man’s words, Adrian walked away, wandering in the fog until it cleared, revealing a vast desert of floating, circular clocks. Time had stopped on most of them, and some were even shattered, but all still insistently continued to tick.

After marveling at the strangeness of them, Adrian continued to walk, pausing when he heard a faint sound, a haunting melody that hummed through his ears.

Adrian walked further, and the cacophonous euphony grew in strength. In the distance he saw a figure from which the unearthly aria came.

As Adrian drew closer, he could make out the shape of a dark-skinned man hunched over under a withered tree. The music seemed strongest around the man, who was whistling merrily along with the tune.

“Hello?”

The man turned to Adrian and smiled, revealing eyes that looked too bright and teeth that looked too sharp. He stood and sauntered up to Adrian, his gait much like a predatory animal.

The man stood so close, their breaths mingled, and Adrian could smell the smokiness and sulfur of the man. He smirked and pushed Adrian to the ground.

The roughness of the sand against his bare skin…

A sharp pain in his rear, and he saw red. Rivers of red as they swelled and dried.

The dirge climbed into a crescendo as he peaked.

It was all he could hear.

The sad, slow melody thrummed around him, its tendrils wrapping around him as it pulled him away into the darkness.

…

The maid discovered Adrian Madd’s dead body when she arrived in the morning. It seemed, throughout the course of the night, that Adrian had drowned himself while taking a bath.

As she ran to call the hospital, she did not hear the low chuckle of the shadows.

She did not hear the soft whimper of the madness.

She did not hear the dirge.