[i]"The most merciful thing in the world... is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents." H.P. Lovecraft[/i] [i]It was a cold and plush afternoon. The air was heavy and thick, almost malleable. The residents of Dojoville were either huddled up in their homes, sipping hot chocolate, or at the local tavern, being drunk as lords and all having a good time. Soon, however, a figure holding an oddly shaped case materialized far up the road leading to the great Dojo. A heavy coat engulfed the being and, ironically, seemed to waddle like a penguin. The walking coat opened the wooden door to the aforementioned tavern and awkwardly closed it behind him. Naturally, few people were distracted from their current action, but some laid eyes on the huddled figure. After standing still for a moment, the figure removed his coat and hung it on a nearby rack. The figure beneath the coat was nothing remarkable. [url=https://s3.amazonaws.com/cgimg/t/g58/476258/1351160_600.jpg]It was an older man wearing a dirty grey suit and matching slacks. He wore small shoes that barely held any noise to them. He had a vertically long head, with large ears and eyes that were unevenly placed upon his face. His nose was curved and crumpled like a piece of discarded paper. A black stubble laid upon his chin, and a mat of wispy white hair barely seemed to stick to his head. His eyebrows were dark and narrow and seemed to hold copious amounts of expression within them. He was of a gaunt build with long, frail arms and identical legs. His shoulders were small and tucked.[/url] The man appeared nervous of his surroundings, and a certain queer aura of circumspection seemed to hold tight to his rough skin. The skinny man walked to the front of the tavern where a performance stage was held. Prudently, he approached the stage from the side. Happening upon a microphone, he tapped it with his course fingers to hold the patrons attention. He cleared his throat, but even when it was magnified he seemed to be reticent.[/i] "H-hello. My name is D-Dim Attenborough. I hail from L-London, England. I have c-come here tonight t-t-to show you one of my musical pieces I have been w-working on. I do hope you enjoy it." [i]Dim provided his audience with an introverted smile and bent down to open his case. Inside it was a violin, polished to a shinning, stunning beauty. Grabbing the bow, the violinist began his tune. As soon as the music started, Dims eyes were closed shut. [/i] [spoiler][url=https://youtu.be/b677_os3s34]Spooky's House of Jumpscares OST - Your Consenting Mind[/url] This is the song he plays. For atmosphere, I recommend playing it in the background as you read. He's only playing the violin, however. The piano is just an added touch to the mood. :)[/spoiler] [i]The tune he played was fast and shrill. The constant increases and decreases in tone and pitch seemed to mesmerize the audience immediately. Then... then something terrible happened. As the tone and pitch increased and Dim began to become less and less autonomous and became more and more... controlled... the audience turned on itself. People were scrambling for silverware, cutting and filleting one another with crude and dull weapons. Some threw chairs and broke bones. Some gouged each other's eyes out. It was a cataclysm. Even some were taking their own lives, ripping their ears off and ripping open their stomachs. A mother stomped on her daughters head until it oozed with pus and grey matter. They began to eat each other... But soon... they were all dead. Dim opened his eyes... and weeped. He repeated the phrases "oh dear", "oh goodness", and "what have I done" for hours upon end. It was not until morning the news of the slaughter reached the Dojo. Dim remained in a fetal position on the stage, spotless of blood. His violins wooden frame had cracked and shattered. He still held the bow in his hand. He still was crying and babbling like a madman...[/i] [spoiler]open![/spoiler]