Posted by SLR on December 01, 2005 at 16:24:29:
SLR - The Musical Box, or Necrophiliac Desires Reversed (Story)
Apologies for taking so long to post another story, events have conspired to prevent me from having much time for this kind of thing. And I only managed to get an idea from listening to old Genesis records over and over. It's not cannibalism, which is what I tend more towards, and it's not the style I prefer to write in but it seemed like something which could work. Feedback appreciated,
SLR
***
Tnok! Little nine year old Cynthia watched in silent awe, her sardonically sweet smile still fixed firmly to her features, and her eyes going wild, as the small red fountain spattered her face and yellow dress. Curiosity and horror fought to dominate her, with neither managing to overcome the other, and so she simply watched as Henry thudded to the ground, and his head rolled across the green until it came to rest, hiding the circular impression on the back.
Henry shouldn't have laughed at pretty little Cynthia; croquet was hard, and it wasn't fair of him to make fun of her. It was his fault that she had lost her temper and gracefully swiped his head from his shoulders. Maybe Nurse would be able to put his head back on, and they could continue playing... but she wasn't apologising!
The funeral was held two weeks later, after eight year old Henry had been displayed in the small casket in the living room of his parent's grand house. Henry and Cynthia's families were all dressed in severe black formal wear, and Cynthia was bored and fidgeted incessantly. Nobody had openly blamed her for Henry, and had put it down to children's games going wrong, but everyone was clearly uncomfortable around her, and Henry's mother screamed every time little Cynthia went too close to her. In the end, she was sent up to Henry's old nursery, and left to her own devices.
Alone in the darkened nursery, Cynthia's eyes soon came upon a small ornate musical box, that had been Henry's most treasured possession. It was a small round Manivelle, with a crank handle, and a portrait of a gaily smiling king on the lid. The silver lining shined in the gloom of the abandoned nursery, and Cynthia felt something compelling her to wind it, and open the lid to listen to the little repeating melody.
No sooner than she had gently lifted the lid than a quiet child's voice wafted out of the box, and startled Cynthia into dropping the musical box onto the floor.
"Play me Old King Cole, that I may join with you."
And as the music began to play, a small ghostly figure emerged from within the box, steadily growing until it was life size, and with the same quiet voice as before, began to speak.
"All your hearts now seem so far from me, it hardly seems to matter now."
"Henry!"
With a start Cynthia recognised him, and gave a small strangled squeal, before her voice stuck in her throat, and she watched Henry drift closer, before managing to speak again.
"Your Mama and Papa said that you were with the angels!"
"Yes, and the nurse will tell you lies, of a kingdom beyond the skies... but I am lost... within this half-world, it hardly seems to matter now. Play me my song!"
"But the box repeats Henry, here it comes again."
"Play me my song!"
"I told you though, here it comes again. You are silly Henry."
But Henry wasn't really listening to the little girl, but staring at his hands in horror, and understanding, as they grew larger, and little hairs started to grow on the backs of them, and on his face.
"Just a little bit, oh, just a little bit more time. Time left to live out my life. Play me my song!"
And Cynthia smiled sweetly at Henry as she started to sing along to the music in her high singing voice.
"Old King Cole was a merry old soul,and a merry old soul was he.
So he called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, and he called for his fiddlers three!"
"Yes, play me my song... oh, but the clock! Tick tock on the mantelpiece... and I want... and I know... and I touch... her warmth!"
Henry's cold hands shot out and grasped at Cynthia's, and she recoiled, and stopped singing, and shook her head at him.
"No! You are much too cold!"
"She's a lady, she's got time..." Henry said quietly to himself, before reaching out again to knock a curled lock out of Cynthia's face, "Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face..."
"Stop it! Stop it or I shall cry for Nurse!"
"She is a lady, she is mine. Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh..."
Henry had grown much older now, and still the music box played as Cynthia began to cry at his attentions.
"I've been waiting here for so long... and all this time has passed me by... it doesn't seem to matter now. You stand there, with your fixed expression, casting doubt on all I have to say, but why don't you touch me?"
"No! I won't! Let me go!"
"Why don't you touch me? Touch me!"
Henry's eyes grew more frantic as he was overtaken by the new sensations brought about by the lust growing within him, and his anger grew too, and he clung onto the little girl's arms, and screamed at her, as his features continued to age, transforming the boy into a hunched old man with a long beard.
"Touch me! Touch me! Touch me now!"
"No! No! NO!"
"Now! Now! NOW!"
The door was suddenly flung open, and the nurse rushed in, screaming at Henry, causing him to let go of Cynthia and stumble backwards in fright, caught and confused by the feelings flooding his being, and the nurse began to throw things at him, until ultimately she threw the music box at him. The box passed through him and smashed on the floor, utterly destroyed, and as the music came to an abrupt end, Henry vanished, leaving behind the echoes of a scream, and the memory of his terrified and time ravaged face in the minds of the two women who had destroyed him.