Narrated by Lilli Albena. Age 17.
The last known entry journal.
They say music is universal.
But I'm starting to think that was a lie.
Our class visited the Garlius Music Hall and Museum last Friday.
It was supposed to be boring as always.
A feild trip filled with dusty violins and grumpy curators explaining harpsichord and forgotten names.
But her name...i remember it.
Garlius Anna Thornne.
A compser. Conductor, vanished in 1875 during the final movement of her symphony.
They say she raised the baton- and never came back down.
Just...gone. Mid-performance with hundreds watching.
The note was never finished.
Some thought it was a magic trick. Others a hoax. But no body or clothes were found.
She just vanished like that.
The museum keeps her baton in a glass case.
I couldn't stop staring at it.
It looked like... bone.
On the way home, something strange happened.
The sky was clear- blue like polished glass- then a dark cloud passed .
And from it.....a book fell.
It didn't tumble. It plummeted, like it had aim.
It landed at my feet, barely making a sound.
I looked around, no one saw it.
The others were laughing, eating snacks, running around.
I stared at it for a moment, then i bent down and touched it.
It was warm.
Bound in faded brown leather. The title:
Symphony of tooth and string- The final Movement.
By Garlius Anna Thornne.
That night, i couldn't sleep. I kept it beside me.
I didn't want to open it, but i did.
The pages didn't contain notes or staves.
They had...instructions.
" construct the instrument. Do not speak its name.
Play it alone. Always alone".
At the end of the page:
" this will bring the maestra home "
I should've thrown it away.
Instead, i followed the steps.
I don't know why i did, but It told me to gather things i shouldn't have touched:
A string of hair, a tooth(my own), a piece of wood from a mirror frame, wax form a melted candle, and salt.
I assembled it that night- somehow. I don't remember the whole thing.
Only that when i finished, it hummed like it was breathing.
It looked like a violin. But there were too many strings.
And the bow felt too wet.
When i touched the string...my mouth bled.
I wanted to scream.
But the sound that came out was a note- a real, rich, aching E.
It echoed through my room and..... something answered.
That night, i dreamt of teeth.
Rows and rows of them. Not human. Not animal.
They lined the seats of the concert hall.
People were sitting. They had no faces, just open mouths. Waiting.
A conductor stood on the stage, tall and thin as a tuning fork.
No eyes. No skin. Just stretched tendons like strings.
She lifted her baton.
It glowed, like it was catching fire.
" again" she said, " you must play it again".
I woke up and saw the bow in my grip. My fingernails were bleeding.
I saw the book open beside me, a new writing had appeared.
Scribbled violently in black ink:
" you are the instrument now. The performance has begun".
The next day, Clary didn't show up to school.
Then Anna.
Then Thomas.
One by one, the kids who had come to the museum with me began disappearing.
There was no police reports, no panics from the parents.
It was like they had been unwritten.
But i remembered them, i heard their names in every silent hall, every narrowed area i passed.
In every creak of the school piano.
In the way my backpack zipper screamed where i pulled it.
And then, at night.....
The applause started.
From behind my closet. From under the floorboards.
From the pages of the book.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
I tried burning the instrument, it screamed but it didn't take any damage.
I tried to bury the book. It reappeared in my bed.
I tried to sneak out of town but woke up back in my room.
The music followed me everywhere i go.
I couldn't stop humming it in the class because all i see in the board was the note.
Even behind my eyelids, i can see the symbols there.
And the worst part... i started to like it.
Mom asked what was wrong.
I told her not to open the violin case.
She did.
That night, i woke to the sound of her crying downstairs.
She was sobbing....and Tuning.
I dreamt again.
The conductor stood closer now.
She opened her mouth and inside was a mirror, and i saw myself.
Holding the baton with my eyes rotted out.
A crowd of mouths screaming in rhythm.
A perfect finale.
This is my confession.
I didn't know what will happen next.
But last night, the book wrote something new:
"Only the finale remains.
Prepare the solo.
All will listen"
I can't stop playing.
I can't stop bleeding.
Am lossing too much blood.
My fingers are raw, but the strings tighten themselves.
They wouldn't let me go.
I think i am the final movement.
If you find this- don't read the book.
Don't open the case.
Don't hum in any museum.
The music is still unfinished.
But the audience....They're already here.
[End of Transcript ]
Recovered from the desk drawer of Lilli Albena.
Lilli was never found. Her remaining classmates were hospitalised due to extreme auditory hallucinations and amnesia.
The violin was confiscated but spontaneously vanished from its containment box during transportation.
[Kai returns ]
" she only wanted to go home from a school trip.
She didn't ask to become a soloist in a symphony made of regrets "
( he closes the music box in his desk gently)
" but the score was already written.
" the conductor...had been waiting"
COMMENT STREAM
[@Oviesix: Lilli was never a musician. That's what make it crueler. The instrument chose her- not because she was special, but because she was there.]
[@Enchomay: music is always emotions in motion. If you weaponize that.....you get Lilli. You get death that hums in harmony ]
[@642: what was that mirror in the conductor's mouth? Was it a reflection of her fate- or the next muscian?]
[@Enchomay: mirrors are where the next body wants. Each performer sees themselves become the conductor, one dream at a time]
[@642: they were never missing, were they? Clary, Anna, Thomas. The vanished kids. The missing compser. Maybe, they were just .....turned into instruments?]
[@Jaija: i used to play the violin as a kid. I would smash it tonight. It has been out of tune for a while, but now i wonder- was it trying to tune me?!!]
"You all caught the same thread as i did.
That symphony wasn't meant to end.
It's unfinished. Still searching for voices"
( he lifts a candle and let it burn low)
" Lilli didn't fall. She was conducted "
Moral of this story?
Don't mistake beautiful for the harmless.
Not everything that plays sweet.....sings of peace.
Sometimes, the most elegant things are cages in rhythm.
And sometimes, the applause is just an illusion"
( he sets the candle aside and places a birthday card, old and burned at the edges, on the table)
(He grins, eerily)
"Now then....shall we go a little deeper?
( he flips open the card, a thin layer of ash pours out)
" you've heard the final movement....
But what about the first note?
Next stream, Garlius's Birthday wish.
The origin of the maestra herself.
Before she finished.
Before she composed silence.
STREAMENDED