Songs Into Stories: MastermindA black midnight strikes and with it comes the winds of malevolence. They howl dreadfully like a pack of hounds from hell, desiring to bite any poor creature that would dare to wander outside at their mercy. In fact, there was a lone figure defining the harrowing breezes, veiled in a dark cloak. Carrying a bucket filled with ice, he hurried among the corpses of abandoned buildings to find the one he had taken as his lair. A cold rain started to pour from the black sky while the man was on the move, causing him to move faster. The shrieks of the wind sounded outright eerie and sinister as they blew throughout the area of forsaken buildings that were left to rot, sounding like cries of spirits. The man had seen apparitions during these many years, so it wasn't farfetched to think that these grounds were haunted. Such a reputation was totally fine with him; it would keep most curious eyes away and not meddle with his work. Through the labyrinth of rust and debris, he eventually managed to reach the building that was in decent shape, at least when compared to its decayed brethren. A weak light above the entrance was trying its best to cast away the surrounding darkness, but was barely able to do so. It kept flickering in an unnerving way, sometimes going out for several seconds. Still it managed to guide the man to this huge warehouse. He opened the rusty metal door that let out a horrible creak as he forced it to move; it almost sounded like somebody had screamed. Once the man had passed through its frame, the metal door became a guardian once more, closing behind the man with a loud thud. The warehouse concealed a terrible secret. A huge part of the building was occupied by a noisy machine, the finest work of the man, although it wasn't perfect. Most of the metal pieces were covered in rust and there were many spots that were either sparking or smoking. The whole contraption looked like it could fall into pieces at any moment. But against all odds, it still stood there firmly, waiting for the moment when it would be able to unleash its powers and fulfill its purpose. It was a doomsday device. The man had been working on it for years, in the solitude of his warehouse. He was a genius, though not one of a sane kind. With this machine, he would make the whole world kneel before him and he would rule as the supreme lord. He could see this grand vision in his mind, and had been seeing it for years now. He wasn't like the other miserable dwellers of the world, he was different. Once the machine would be completed, he would claim the world as his own. And he had tried, tried so hard to be one with the masses, but hadn't felt comfortable in his skin of false fellowship, especially after the tragedy took his dearest away from him. Now bitter and hateful, he shed this skin like a snake and strived to become the one who would mold this world anew. One strike of the heaven's fire was the last thing he needed for his machine to come alive. For this purpose, he had installed a long and crude antenna on the roof. It was reaching for the heaven like a hideous mechanical hand, desperate for power. The genius was looking upwards, gazing at the black heaven through the couple of windows there were in the ceiling. The rain was starting to pound harder on the glass and he pondered if a storm was approaching. The water from the sky was relentlessly tormenting the warehouse and the gusts of wind were growing stronger, violently toying with the antenna. Still, it was able to remain there even at the mercy of the black heaven. The genius held high hopes that night for it really seemed like he would get the final powerful touch that would make his visions of greatness real. He opened a hatch in the machine and emptied the bucket of ice in there, then he observed the weather, staring at the windows above him. He waited and waited, but he wasn't exactly the most patient man in the world. The harsh wind and rain were there, causing some sort of storm, but there was no lightning, the one thing he required. He was pacing around the warehouse for a while, but he needed something to do. He noticed that a part of his machine was barely functioning, the cogs were loose, and so the genius grabbed his tools and started to work on the doomsday device. However, one thing led to another and soon it occurred that he was dismantling the grand machine, bit by bit. It wasn't as perfect as he wanted. The warehouse was getting more and more quiet as he tore the device into pieces, only the clanking of metal echoed within the confinements of the building. The truth was that this machine wasn't the first one he had created and it wouldn't be the last. During his years in solitude, the genius had built many different versions of the doomsday device, mostly following the same pattern but some of them being slightly different. Perhaps this was because of perfectionism. Or maybe just a result of his mind's obsession with being occupied. He was stuck in a cycle, building a device he could use to conquer the world, just needing to capture a single strike of lightning in order to unleash the machine's potential, but he would never be able to wait long enough for that to happen. He had a brilliant mind for sure, but it was also his biggest downfall. Constantly getting distracted and bored, he would repeat building the machine, only to break it down a while afterwards. For years the genius had been doing the same thing over and over again. So many years later he managed to finally realize this. The warehouse was eerily silent since all the sounds of the machine were gone. Shadows were lurking in every corner, kept in their spots by the flickering of lights. The outside world was engulfed by darkness, and so was the mind of the genius. He was on his knees on the cold floor, holding his head and crying, while the broken metal was scattered all around him, their stillness telling the tale of his ultimate failure. All his tools and the pieces of machine, they were all the same, just useless debris with no function in their shattered form. Years of work. He had sacrificed so many years of his life into making the machine, but for what? He didn't even want to rule anymore. A portion of his life, wasted just like that, having all these visions of grandeur, but losing his desire to make them reality. Bitter tears in his eyes, he just wished he could go back in time and prevent himself from wasting all these years. An idea sparked in his mind. While the last of his tears were rolling down his face, he stood up from the floor. He could do that, go back in time. He was a genius after all. He would make the impossible possible. The genius rushed to his worktable to scribble down blueprints. A little bit of designing, a little bit of time and he would be able to travel back to the days when he hadn't yet wasted his potential. He committed to this project completely, nothing else mattered. Once he was fully focusing on something, he couldn't think of anything else. Eating or sleeping, he barely allowed himself to enjoy these necessities. Day and night he worked on his newest device and if it worked, it wouldn't be his last one. He scavenged new tools from the neighboring buildings, finding just enough and in decent condition for him to wield. But it's not like anyone would miss them anyway; they were left to decay. Now they would aid the genius in his finest work yet. And one evening, it was done. The genius looked at the object that now lay on the worktable, on top of the blueprints that had given the start for its existence. He felt rather surreal as he stared at his new device, but he was also proud of himself, even though he wasn't sure if it was going to work or not. But he was quite confident that it would function as it should. The object didn't really look like much; it was a rusty cube with wires and screws sticking out of it and was the size of about an alarm clock. Inside its core, it let out a blue shimmer. The genius was admiring his own work and he carefully picked it up from the table to give some late inspections on it. He eyed the cube thoroughly, but didn't find anything that should be fixed. It was ready to be used. He stood up from his seat and held the cube with both hands delicately as if it was the most fragile thing – though it would be a major setback if it happened to break. The genius let his gaze wander around the warehouse, feeling oddly sentimental about all this, like he was leaving and never coming back. But maybe that was partly true. He wouldn't see this exact state anymore. The genius activated his gadget by pressing a button on one of its sides and the device started to whirr. The blue shimmer spread from its core to all its external parts and from there, it kept devouring everything in its way, engulfing the genius inside its glow. A vortex of blue light dominated the warehouse for a short moment until it suddenly disappeared with a loud boom like if something had exploded. The genius was gone and so was his device. All that was left behind were the broken metal clutter and the curious little shadows that had followed his work for so long. A black midnight strikes and with it comes the winds of malevolence. They howl dreadfully like a pack of hounds from hell, desiring to bite any poor creature that would dare to wander outside at their mercy. In fact, there was a lone figure defining the harrowing breezes, veiled in a dark cloak. Carrying a bucket filled with ice, he hurried among the corpses of abandoned buildings to find the one he had taken as his lair. There was a scent of storm in the air and he wanted to get indoors before it would unleash its full might. A little bit of drizzle started to soak him already as he moved like a shadow around the cemetery of deserted buildings. It wasn't hard for him to find the warehouse he was residing in. The only light in this accursed darkness was hanging above the entrance of the man's lair, acting like a beacon that would guide him home. This light remained strong even before the might of the incoming storm and smothering night. The vile winds on his trail, the man opened the door to the warehouse and slipped inside, safe from their cold and ruthless fangs. The grand contraption that used to claim most of the space in the warehouse was no more. Or more like, it hadn't been built yet. The genius had successfully traveled backwards in time, years before he had started to work on his doomsday device. Sadly, his little time machine gadget had broken in the process; he would have liked to go even farther back. However, this was enough for him and he felt content, being years younger now. The genius walked towards a new kind of machine he had recently created. It was a rather crude mass of metal and wires, though the most notable part of it was a mechanical hand it was able to move. The device was placed next to a table and on the table, there was a chess board. The genius pressed a button to turn on the machine and it rumbled a little as it came to life. His opponent was ready. The genius sat down on a chair and contemplated his first move. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the bucket of ice and got immersed in the board game. It was one of those things he had always wanted to learn. And now, as he was years younger, he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to study chess. His little robot here would aid him with this. He had his whole life ahead of him, and if he wanted to pursue world domination again, there was time for that. But for now, he would keep playing, and the world could sigh in relief as the one madman had something else to do with his time. But the world was inside his head, his sense of reality fabricated. His spirit is bound to his own personal hell, unable to perceive life beyond his little plane of existence. Though you can't long for something you don't know anything about. Trapped inside his dark bubble, he would keep building his machines and living his life drenched in madness. He was all alone and being held in a cage.Suffering In SilenceA thick fog had shrouded the town in its cold and dreary embrace. It felt unnatural, giving to the townsfolk the sensation that nothing could thrive inside its miserable guts. The radiant sun that had blessed the town just a while ago couldn't penetrate through the mist with its holy and life-giving rays, and so the town was trapped in dimness, for not even their artificial lights managed to bring illumination to their dwelling. The fog was like a dormant grand beast, sitting on the town's chest and smothered it, because the air seemed to stay completely still, there wasn't even a single gust of wind to be felt. The haze also silenced all the noises and within the weak-minded, it felt like they had entered a spirit realm as a punishment for something they didn't even remember doing. Not many people believed in spirits or any other supernatural things whatsoever anymore, but sometimes even these nonbelievers were left to ponder whether there was something behind the strange happenings that couldn't be explained by logic. No matter what their stance was regarding the existence of spirits, the eerie gloom the fog had brought over their town made everyone wandering outside look like lost souls, condemned to seek something they would never find. The mist had transformed everyone into dark figures that were unable to recognize each other and would just drift through the haze like nothing mattered to them. However, there was one individual who was constantly like this, not just on this particular foggy day. Milanvi had lived in this town for years, but still, nobody could recognize him. He was like a ghost, sometimes wandering outside, but not interacting with anybody. He was so dull that nobody ever paid any attention to him. And that day was no different, not to him. But that day, he was one of the many, he was part of the town in a strange way, since everybody was like ghosts to each other. But every day Milanvi blended in perfectly and no one could tell that he was there, had been all along. Milanvi was a very quiet young man. He seldomly started conversations with anyone and even when he did, he tried his best to get out of the situation as fast as he could. He just didn't want to waste anyone's time; he wasn't worth it. He was a stranger to everyone and thus, no one would miss him, no one would wonder how he was doing. He was an unseen background character, not someone people could remember or care about. Just a bland man you would forget within the same day. And since there was no one who could be considered as part of his pathetic lonely life, there was no one who could help him. Maybe it was his own fault, being so wretched that nobody wanted to be around him. Milanvi was carrying a lot of anguish inside, sometimes it felt crushing. But being the oddly silent man that he was, screaming his pain was something he was unable to do, it was like a curse and his lips were sealed. Sometimes he wanted to call for help, reach his hand from the pit of misery where he was dwelling, but there was no one out there who was willing to listen or grasp his hand. In the end, Milanvi had accepted his role as a living ghost. He remained in his pit that was getting deeper and filled with black water so he could drown. From the outside, he was a regular young man you would expect to bypass in the streets. Maybe you would occasionally see him inside the apartment building where you lived, maybe pondering who he was. But since he was so plain, you wouldn't waste any more time thinking about him. He just kept to himself, not wanting to bother anyone. From the surface he looked calm, like the water of a pond. But from the inside, there was a relentless chaos, deep under that still and calm water. It was killing him from within, and yet, he couldn't ask for help. He had understood that he had failed every aspect of his life and there were no brighter days ahead. He had suffered all his life and that would never change. He was tired of it all, so very tired. People tend to go for walks when they want to calm down and clear their head, but in Milanvi, it had the opposite effect. His mind was a busy one, and if there was nothing for him to focus on, darkness would easily veil it. But even with this risk, he still possessed a particle of the will to just go outside instead of counting the shadows on his walls or being mesmerized by the television. On some days, he was glad of the sight of fellow people. But sometimes, he was afraid of them all, unable to stay out for long as he was filled with the desire to get back home, to safety. He would just sit there while his soul would rot, suffering in silence. This foggy day, it was strangely ordinary for Milanvi. He breathed in the still but fresh air, enjoying how it filled his lungs, even if the air would poison him. Under the cover of thick mist, he would dare to glance around more as he didn't have to worry about accidentally making eye contact with people. They were just dark figures, ghosts just like him, wandering around immersed in their own little world. The air was cold, but somehow Milanvi found it comfortable, giving him sensations of serenity and being strangely connected to the outside world. He had no particular destination set in mind as he strolled around the town of fog, he would just aimlessly go wherever his feet would take him. He didn't expect anything out of the ordinary to happen during his visit to the guts of the haze, he assumed this being just another mundane day in his life, but strange things tend to happen when you least expect it. Every form Milanvi saw in the fog appeared blurred and every sound was muffled, so he didn't think much of it when he saw a shadowy figure pass by near him. He assumed this was just one of the townsfolk. But then they bypassed him again, moving back and forth. This person's erratic behavior did catch his interest, even though he usually didn't want to pay too much attention to other people, not wanting them to feel uncomfortable because of him. But this entity here, they didn't seem… real. They didn't seem to be a human being. At first Milanvi tried to glance at them sneakily from the corner of his eye, not daring to look directly at them. But little by little he became more interested in this mysterious being and got courage to take a better look at them. By the first glance, the entity appeared as a human since it had the height of a tall person and because they were veiled in black, they didn't seem to differ much from the dark forms of the townsfolk that were walking around. But how this thing moved… There was something unnatural about it. They moved swiftly around despite not running and their limbs were twitching in a horrifying way. In Milanvi's opinion, it was like a glitch in a video game. The being was wrapped in black rags that concealed their whole body. This of course only highlighted the most notable feature they possessed; they were wearing a pure white mask, the only facial features it held were the eyes. Pitch-black, empty eyes that were crying blood. Milanvi wasn't sure how to feel about the strange entity that clearly wasn't human. Should he be terrified? Curious? Ignore them completely? Were they real or had he lost the last remains of his sanity? Did they happen to be a specter that had appeared only to him? No one else paid any attention to them. But was it because of the fog or because the entity refused to be seen by others, Milanvi wasn't sure. The entity moved around Milanvi, clearly having some sort of interest in him. But they made no sounds, so Milanvi couldn't tell what they wanted from him. At first, he had found their presence quite distressing, but as he continued to stroll in the mist, the creature started to seem more and more harmless. What a strange thing it is, the human brain. Milanvi was more afraid of fellow people than an unnatural entity. Even in Milanvi's mind this was pretty absurd. But despite the being's scary looks, they hadn't shown any signs of hostility. They just were there, fascinated by Milanvi, joining in his wandering around the town. They were a companion Milanvi hadn't expected to get, but surprisingly, he didn't really mind this even though he probably should have. But of course, the question was burning in his mind: what was this creature? What was their purpose, why did they appear to him today? He was afraid to open his mouth and ask these questions from the entity, because if only he could see them, he would seem pretty crazy in the eyes of the townsfolk. Milanvi remained quiet, walking forward with the strange being circling around him, acting normal just like he did every day. Perhaps it was his subconsciousness that had made the decision. Milanvi had somehow managed to walk to the small port the town had. He had this strange feeling inside, like he needed to be here. But why? The silence was hanging over the port just like it had done around the rest of the town, but in here, Milanvi could hear some noises that proved there was life inside the guts of the fog. He could hear the seagull's sad caw a few times, maybe it was trying to find somebody because it couldn't stand the loneliness anymore inside the mist. Then the bird's sounds faded away like an old man's memory. The only sound left behind was the waters that weakly crashed against the pier and the bottom of the boats that remained stationary, slumbering and waiting for the moment when they could fulfill their purpose once more. The port felt serene. Milanvi couldn't see anything except some of the dark forms of the sleeping vessels. The fog was leading into the nothingness. It gave him the impression that there was absolutely nothing beyond the curtain of mist. This town was trapped in the fog, cut from the rest of the world. Or maybe, if you took the risk and would get lost in the haze willingly, it would lead you to a new place. A better place, perhaps. Milanvi stared into the grey emptiness and wondered what could possibly lie beyond it. At this moment he also noticed that the entity had ceased their erratic movements. Milanvi glanced at the being, it was just standing there by his side, staring into the mist and its nothingness. It was a little strange to see them this calm. Did they feel the pull to this port as well? Slowly the entity shifted the gaze of its empty eyes at Milanvi. Because of the lack of facial features and being incapable of making sounds, Milanvi wasn't sure what they wanted from him. Then the creature raised their hand and held it in the air; a manner that suggested the creature wanted Milanvi to grasp their hand. For a short moment he pondered this, even though his response didn't linger in his mind for long. Was there anything left for him here? The answer was obvious. Wherever the creature was inviting him to come, it would be better than this. Milanvi grasped the entity's hand; it felt cold but the grip was strong. The creature's long thin fingers that had claws in them closed Milanvi's hand in their clutch, surprisingly tenderly considering their terrifying look. The being started to guide Milanvi towards the fog, walking along the pier. Only the sound of Milanvi's quiet steps could be heard. Once the man and the monster had come to the far end of the pier and there was nothing but water and mist ahead, the entity still encouraged Milanvi to step forward. The man had his doubts and fears, because what would happen once he would take the decisive step? But like a guardian angel, the entity urged him to let go and walk. Milanvi took a deep breath, his last one in the town of mist, and grasping tightly the creature's hand, he stepped over the last board of the pier and began to walk on the fog together with the entity. The sound of Milanvi's steps faded away. There was only silence. Hand in hand the man and the monster disappeared to the mist. Milanvi had been the silent unseen man all this time, so nobody would notice that he wasn't there in the background anymore. Eventually the thick fog that had veiled the town would fade away, and with that, so would the memories of Milanvi even existing. Behind him, he had left nothing but silence.