Julian Edwards

You can’t define music yourself. Music in not absolute. Music is what it wants to be. It is independent. A sound of a river, a sound of a tree and a sound of a boy’s I-pod are all music. You don’t control music, it controls you.

One day a boy came walking in a village with earbuds in his ear, a metallic banging launched from his head. The villagers came running out. They could hear a low roar emitting from his earbuds. The boy stood there disturbed. His horizontal stare struck fear into their eyes. A blazing fire arose from his feet. The most sinister smile appeared on his face. Twisting blasts of fire ran through the villager’s bodies. Looking through his eyes, laughing, the village was crumbling into a black corpse. Balls of cold soot flew down through the bones, a chilly breeze grabbed his earbuds and knocked them off. The boy woke up on his kitchen counter, a half eaten cookie beside him. 

 

 


Share

A joint venture of Sabot at Stony Point, Blackbird and New Virginia Review, Inc.

Blackbird

Copyright © 2011 by The Redwing's Nest and the individual writers and artists.