So I was writing...
The sound of an angry piano seemed to echo throughout the dorms of the hideout, disturbing the peaceful bliss with its wretched bashings on each key. It was actually a little bit more peaceful than figured, but that was soon going to change.
Soon enough, the piano began to pick up each note, turning this little melody of keys into a bit of an 'exciting' emotional tune. It was a little more in depth of supposed emotion, probably one that would never be shown by the man playing this semi-good tune. It stayed like that repeating a few times, emphasizing its little taste, before moving on.
Not long after that, the real bashing began. It sounded more as if a melodic tune was just being jammed hard on the keys; anger suppressed deep down slowly reaching the surface like some sort of soon to erupt volcano, and this was just the preparing sign to tell you to take cover or get the hell out. Repeating it twice as an extra precaution, it slowly turned back to its gentle lullaby soft, gently and nice. Almost kind of like a gently hold off to prepare you for what was to come, but soon it repeated as it did before, slowly picking up the speed back to the emotional exciting tune. Almost sounding like the pianist had heavy fingers, the music began to sound a little thick, and slowly began progressing into the next stage of playing before really sounding like an angry cat stepping on the keys (more like an angry mutt). The bashing of the melody began to pick up, but slowly turned to more and more, before sounding like angry slams, turning this once 'peaceful song' into a madman's tune. The heinous sound made it seem like the piano was screaming to be put out of its misery, crying at the pain it would have felt if it were alive.
Slick was at it again, angry as hell and not in the best of mood to be messed with or hitched at. With every pound on the keys, the piano screamed a nearly painful screech that would have most likely woken everyone up. That is, if they weren't use to the sound of screeching piano keys. But out of the whole crew in this hideout, one wasn't taking the melodic piano bashing into polite. He was already pissed off, and now trying to sleep, but the ragged jabs in music prevented further devotion to the long night to come.
Rolling over in the dark, he groaned a little, muttering a few curses under his breath. Rolling on his back, he stared blankly at the ceiling, hissing at the sudden bashing tune in the music. A loud curse was heard from his mouth as he sat up sudden when the heavy piano playing picked up. The semi-tolerable music turned into unbearable noise, and that he couldn't just ignore anymore. Slick was just slamming his hands into the piano now, he knew it. God this unbearable sound was just Slick slamming his hands on the keys and expecting nothing to happen. Droog knew that Slick was pretty bad ass at the piano but this wasn't exactly Slick playing. Something must have really pissed him off. If anything that Droog didn't mind, it was secretly listening to Slick play a small tune or so on his piano, and every now and then actually play a song with him on his saxophone. That was about one of the few things Droog wouldn't hesitate to agree with, seeing how he could just stop what he's doing at times just to play a tune on his instrument. It was about the only few times he really enjoyed being around someone other than himself, bringing back the good memories before The Felt had anything to do with it.
And secretly, Droog actually missed some of those old times. But, that's in the past, no use in crying over spilled milk; and the "music" he's hearing now was beginning to give him one hell of a headache. However Deuce and Boxcars manage to sleep through this is just amazing.
Trying to wait it out wasn't going to work, Slick sounded like he was dancing on the keys not actually playing. He might as well be playing the piano with his ass if he's playing that terrible.
Turning over and sitting properly, he heard a sudden drop in the music, going from unbearable noise to a gently melodic tune, and slowly progressing back to that forsaken sound. Standing up, he threw on a white shirt, already in black shorts and stepped out. He stood outside of his door, looking around a little, noticing how the hallway seemed darker than usual. Now walking down the small hallway he was soon being forced to cover his ears as he walked slowly down the dark hallway to the loud unfortunate sound of "Music". Just before stepping into a small shadowed light, he simply stood there and stayed, watching Slick (who was still in uniform) pound and pound at the keys. He wasn't even playing in a rhythm anymore; he was just bashing the keys as he pleased. It didn't surprise Droog to be honest, but something did catch his eye.
Did that shadow just jump? He starred off to the side by Slick, soon taking notice to the darker than usual room before taking careful steps towards Slick; who was practically in a trance. Whatever is going on here, I think this has something to do with that… "Shadow Based Magic" or whatever it was that Slick mentioned a while back…? Whatever the case may be- He wasn't able to dwell to long on his thought, suddenly being forced to jump quickly off back into the hallway. Shadows were aggressive apparently. But, in the distance of the piano that had gone from bashing to soft back to bashing again, there was a bit of an… orchestrated sound; almost as if the shadows had a part of why he felt this hatred to certain things. It was a sort of… calming but warning like.
Soon enough, he found himself engulfed in the shadows traitorous path, one right after another; a shadow wrapped around his arms and/or legs; even tugging gently. What the hell was going on? He looked at Slick, who seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. The sound of the piano faded to the emotional orchestrated melodic music.
Kicking and hissing, he wrestled and scratched to get away from theses stupid shadows with no veil. With ever little slip of the hand, he found himself in his uniform, tugging and wrestling away from these things, looking at Slick – who had gone completely silent – his piano mute, the orchestrated shadows loud in his ears. He fell, the shadows tripping him. As he lay there, clawing desperately at the ground, he found himself barren of weapons and looking at Slick, pleadingly. But Slick couldn't hear his former right-hand man cry out for help, reaching out for him and soon dragged under, a body of shadows blinding his eye sight. Soon enough, he came face to face with some sort of monster that drooled; its teeth round and sharp, like dragon horns; its tongue was long and sleek, coming down to a fine point; it's eyes blind folded… but the only grip it had on Droog was a tentacle around his foot, that soon climbed up his leg and around his waist.
Soon enough, this monster held him still; Droog's arms pinned to his body. He couldn't move. As he was lifted up, the monster let out a low snarl, striking fear into Droog. With a wide mouth open, Droog last saw the demented being from hell, prepare to consume him whole; the warm breath of this thing snapping some sort of sense into him before-
X
Eyes snapped open, the room completely silent and a sick feeling in the pit of a 'classy' man's stomach. Droog sat up in a cold sweat, panting a little. It… It was a nightmare?
It was a little too… realistic to be…
Droog soon found himself turned over and on the floor, holding his stomach. He gulped a little, shaking his head, feeling sick with fear. He's never felt like this before… what was that dream all about?
Not able to dwell on his thoughts any longer, he forced himself to stand, dashing to the bathroom. His stomach gurgled a little, making it almost too painful to move. God, what the hell was going on?
Later on, Droog was in the bathroom, throwing his guts out, something finally getting him. This wasn't what he'd expect from some sort of nightmare, but apparently, this was something that disturbed him more than he figured. With his stomach empty, he heaved a little, throwing up nothing but air and stomach acids.
A knock at the door caught him off guard, nails clawing a little on the side of the toilet, as he regurgitated nothing but stomach fluids yet again. "Droogy?" A familiar raspy voice asked, before the door was opened a bit, "Droog, you okay- Droog…" Slick peeked in before opening the door up completely, shaking his head a little at the sight. Droog couldn't exactly imagine how this looked. A shirtless man that is known to be your coworker is in the bathroom, throwing his guts out into a toilet, most likely looking like shit. Embarrassing.
"…" He didn't reply, just ducking his head before another wave of sickness washed over him. He shook his head a little, soon jumping with a heavily jerking stomach, throwing up again into the nearly complete vomit covered toilet. Droog wasn't in the mood for a laugh or two. He was just woken out of sleep and now sick by fear. Something was in that dream; something that wasn't good.
Instead of popping off a shitty pun, Slick walked in; already back in his usual uniform and kneeling down over by Droog. A gentle hand was placed on his right-hand man's back, rubbing it gently. "C'mon Droogy… I know you ain't feelin' good…" He muttered in a calming voice, probably something that shocked Droog a little. with a slurry like nod, Droog slowly stood up; Slick muttered about getting Boxcars to clean it up later before he headed out the door with his right-hand man dragging a little in steps.
Keeping quiet, Droog did nothing but dwell on the dream he had, which now just seemed like a bunch of fuzz and jacked up scratchy music. The only thing he could see clear was Slick slowly disappearing in the shadow-like light before a wall of black covered his eye sight...
Gonna continue this perhaps, if I get enough little reviews, I dunno... This is just a bit of an experiment.