The second Alice, precociously,
headed to Wonderland singing a song
Creating various sounds
the Alice gave birth to a crazy world
The man did not know where exactly he was. All he could see was a simple forest path, filled with dark trees and bushes to the side. He looked up; no sky was visible. He momentarily shivered; he thought he'd just heard a sound. What was is exactly? He couldn't distinguish it properly. It had sounded something like a crow crowing, like in the sunset sky where they would fly back to their nests. It gave him goose bumps. As he always did when he was feeling down or scared- the man opened his lips and began to sing.
A short wind blew, ruffling his blue hair. Feeling somewhat braver now, he continued to sing, his voice rising high and low, sometimes skipping, sometimes dancing. His courage grew inside him as he sang, and he walked along the almost invisible forest path in quite a jolly manner. He sang of love, childhood, innocence, and other joys of life.
It wasn't until he had finished his seventh song when he first noticed something white fluttering in the wind. He stopped singing, and narrowed his eyes to see it more clearly. The white object, carried lightly by the force of air, flipped and hovered and floated- before finally, landing on the man's hands. Blinking, curious, he smoothed it and looked closely. It was a sheet of paper- a sheet of music, to be correct. On that piece of music was more music than he had ever seen; more beautiful, entrancing and addictive than all the music he had ever heard. There was no title on the top of the music; there was only a small mark of blue in the shape of a diamond.
Tentatively, his eyes scanned the music and his mouth opened. The hesitation only lived for a short while. Soon, he let out his voice flow away, like it had never before. His amazement at sudden outburst of coloratura vanished quickly as he began to enjoy this full explosion of his talent. He had always known, deep down, secretly, that he was every bit as good as everyone; that he was better than anyone else in singing. No one had understood him; but now, with this magical music and his voice, he would make them listen. His voice would force them to.
His pace quickened, the song growing louder and louder. From behind the trees, black shadows began to appear. They had the forms of human, yet they were not quite fully people; they were like dark silhouettes of the night, obscured by the lack of light. The only light from them were their eyes, the only glows in this dark forest. The man smiled a maniacal smile that looked agonizingly strange on his previously tender face. They were the audience, those black, shadowy people. They were looking onto him, and when his song finished, they let out a silent applause and sounds of awe. His grin grew even wider. This was what he had always wanted: someone to listen to his song, and perhaps even acknowledge his talent.
Oh, what a wonderful world this was! The man let out a laugh. His music had become a new creative force, weaving ways and world throughout the empty forest, creating doors and passages that were not there a moment ago. He looked up; the dark sky glared back at him. He kept on smiling that fanatic smile, now permanently engraved on his face.
The shadows gathered around him. They adored him; they shouted and demanded for him. So as to keep his 'fans' happy, he opened his lips to sing again.
Bang. A sound of a gun firing rang through the forest.
The man looked down. From the hole in his chest where his heart ought to be, there was red blood seeping out; slowly, then more quickly. The world began to sway and turn as he fell and the shadows gathered around him. With no sound, with no mouths, they kept on asking him to sing. It was his duty, they said. That was he had been brought here, and given that music of blue diamond…
The man grinned with bloody lips. Then, opening his mouth, he began to sing. Such a frightening and haunting song it was, music of a dying life. Yet, as he died, a rose began to bloom from his gunshot wound, the vine growing tall with no support; the flowers bloomed splendidly, their originally blue petals soaked in red. The contrast of red and blue was beautiful to behold, even in the dying man's eyes. And still letting out his last breath, watching the rose grow and grow and finally covering himself and the forest entirely, he sang.
That Alice was a rose,
killed by a crazy man;
Blooming a single red flower,
he wilted away in front of everyone's eyes