DigitalMatrix
10-03-2011, 09:22 AM
SCREECH (EARPHONE HORROR): The music playing in his brain was off tune. Yes, it was recognizable but it wasn’t right; it was high pitched and screechy. He removed the earphones from his ear. These earphones had a problem. This wasn’t new to him; he had heard worse of earphones before. He went to his room and lay down to sleep.
He visualized the film characters in his head. His room mate must have started watching a film, if not he would still be deeply asleep by now. He stirred in his bed, some character in the film screamed out in anger. Damn! His speakers were loud. Now he was pissed off. He said it quite subconsciously: “reduce the volume, its loud.” No response. He said it again; then his room mate replied: “do you want me to put the volume on zero?”
Later that day, he was in his friends room. His friend was listening to music with an iPod. An iPod Nano. He could hear the song from the other end of the room; he never realized iPod earphones were that loud; yes they were loud but he could hear the song softly playing, Forever, by Chris Brown, like the music was coming from the walls, and not the earphones. It surrounded him like a black veil of sweet confusion that arises from astonished ignorance. He left the room to get off the feeling. Silence, that was better.
The next day, he was in his school library, trying gently to get the weird happenings of the day before out of his head. His earphones went off tune. He could hear his room mates movie very loudly even though it was greatly reduced right from when he started watching it; then he could hear his friend's music from the earphones quite creepily.
Just then, right there in the library, some one turned on some loud music. Quite secular. Very loud. Shayo by Durella. He could hear it very strident. He turned around, no one in the library seemed to notice. His heart skipped a beat, no way! They weren’t going to tell him they weren’t hearing that! At least someone else too must have turned his head. No one. Not a single soul had turned except him. They were just moving around like nothing happened. He turned round again trying to look for the perpetrator. He had to be somewhere close with his laptop...what audacity! But he didn’t find anyone with a laptop around him. His heart skipped three beats and started pounding now. No he wasn’t running; he wasn’t hearing things. This was not from is head. He stood up quite shakily in fear. No, he had to find this person. He had to convince himself he wasn’t mad. The music was as loud as ever. He tapped the person on his left: “can’t you hear the music playing?” The person answered, quite startled: “no?” He moved from his seat quite clumsily, making silly scraping noises with his chair. About three people stirred from their work. What? And they didn’t move when the music started? He walked around the library in a haste looking for the person. Some people were using laptops but none of them had any music on. He was unnerved as he moved back to his seat. Just then the music got little louder. He turned to the music source. He almost collapsed at what he saw. He shook his head rejecting the things his eyes were telling him he was seeing.
He carried his books and left the library in a haste, still shaking his head and denying the facts it was presenting to him...he had seen a guy with earphones! How possible was that? He couldn’t have been the one, no, no, no, no! This wasn’t happening. He was going to sleep now and get the whole thing out of his head.
He passed a person using earphones. It was as clear as digital. It was one of those songs Keri Hilson could have sung; he just didn’t know which one. His calming agitation took a herculean leap; his heart almost coming out of his nose. It was real. It was happening. He was going fanatical; and it was earphones that was making him so. He had suddenly (or overtime) developed an acute hearing for earphones and speakers alike. He passed five people with earphones on his way back to his room. He recognised some. He was new to some but they all seemed louder. The increase in loudness wasn’t arithmetic; it was geometric(2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64). He realized in shocking fear by the time he reached his hostel he could hardly pick up a distinct earphone sound. He looked around in panic; his pulse rate sky shooting. He didn’t feel the sweat tricking down his side; his heavy breathing; the booming in his ribcage initiated by his heart. There was not a person in sight using earphones but he was going mad with the music and movies; oh his fauvorite song, Love Stoned, Justin Timberlake, then ….then …. He couldn’t pick out the rest.
He moved closer to his hostel. The different sounds were now like noise produced on a Sunday market; only it was a music and film Sunday market with each sales man displaying his wares by blasting his own type of music; creating a liberally nepotistic array of bull****. It was almost constant now, but it couldn’t be called music anymore. It was more like loud rushing water. Plenty humming bees. Jolly big shiny green flies. Clumsy chickens in a poultry farm. A noisy lecture room. A cricket ridden bush. A standing ovation. The wind blowing trees; and metal scraping metal all at the same time. The closer he moved to his hall, the more unbearable it became. Now the whole thing was out of tune, spinning in the limbo version of cloud seven. Many colours. Many sounds. Uncontrollable rush. Pain. Severity. Gnashing of teeth. Demons. Many demons. More demons. The earphone demons. Pitch black. Void in forced screeching. Bursting screeching. Fork scraping metal. Many forks on metal. The sound was searing into his brain. Very soon it would rupture; like a rind of lemon slicing through his puerile mind. Sour tasting sounds. Intense sourness. More demons. More torture. The devil himself.
He visualized the film characters in his head. His room mate must have started watching a film, if not he would still be deeply asleep by now. He stirred in his bed, some character in the film screamed out in anger. Damn! His speakers were loud. Now he was pissed off. He said it quite subconsciously: “reduce the volume, its loud.” No response. He said it again; then his room mate replied: “do you want me to put the volume on zero?”
Later that day, he was in his friends room. His friend was listening to music with an iPod. An iPod Nano. He could hear the song from the other end of the room; he never realized iPod earphones were that loud; yes they were loud but he could hear the song softly playing, Forever, by Chris Brown, like the music was coming from the walls, and not the earphones. It surrounded him like a black veil of sweet confusion that arises from astonished ignorance. He left the room to get off the feeling. Silence, that was better.
The next day, he was in his school library, trying gently to get the weird happenings of the day before out of his head. His earphones went off tune. He could hear his room mates movie very loudly even though it was greatly reduced right from when he started watching it; then he could hear his friend's music from the earphones quite creepily.
Just then, right there in the library, some one turned on some loud music. Quite secular. Very loud. Shayo by Durella. He could hear it very strident. He turned around, no one in the library seemed to notice. His heart skipped a beat, no way! They weren’t going to tell him they weren’t hearing that! At least someone else too must have turned his head. No one. Not a single soul had turned except him. They were just moving around like nothing happened. He turned round again trying to look for the perpetrator. He had to be somewhere close with his laptop...what audacity! But he didn’t find anyone with a laptop around him. His heart skipped three beats and started pounding now. No he wasn’t running; he wasn’t hearing things. This was not from is head. He stood up quite shakily in fear. No, he had to find this person. He had to convince himself he wasn’t mad. The music was as loud as ever. He tapped the person on his left: “can’t you hear the music playing?” The person answered, quite startled: “no?” He moved from his seat quite clumsily, making silly scraping noises with his chair. About three people stirred from their work. What? And they didn’t move when the music started? He walked around the library in a haste looking for the person. Some people were using laptops but none of them had any music on. He was unnerved as he moved back to his seat. Just then the music got little louder. He turned to the music source. He almost collapsed at what he saw. He shook his head rejecting the things his eyes were telling him he was seeing.
He carried his books and left the library in a haste, still shaking his head and denying the facts it was presenting to him...he had seen a guy with earphones! How possible was that? He couldn’t have been the one, no, no, no, no! This wasn’t happening. He was going to sleep now and get the whole thing out of his head.
He passed a person using earphones. It was as clear as digital. It was one of those songs Keri Hilson could have sung; he just didn’t know which one. His calming agitation took a herculean leap; his heart almost coming out of his nose. It was real. It was happening. He was going fanatical; and it was earphones that was making him so. He had suddenly (or overtime) developed an acute hearing for earphones and speakers alike. He passed five people with earphones on his way back to his room. He recognised some. He was new to some but they all seemed louder. The increase in loudness wasn’t arithmetic; it was geometric(2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64). He realized in shocking fear by the time he reached his hostel he could hardly pick up a distinct earphone sound. He looked around in panic; his pulse rate sky shooting. He didn’t feel the sweat tricking down his side; his heavy breathing; the booming in his ribcage initiated by his heart. There was not a person in sight using earphones but he was going mad with the music and movies; oh his fauvorite song, Love Stoned, Justin Timberlake, then ….then …. He couldn’t pick out the rest.
He moved closer to his hostel. The different sounds were now like noise produced on a Sunday market; only it was a music and film Sunday market with each sales man displaying his wares by blasting his own type of music; creating a liberally nepotistic array of bull****. It was almost constant now, but it couldn’t be called music anymore. It was more like loud rushing water. Plenty humming bees. Jolly big shiny green flies. Clumsy chickens in a poultry farm. A noisy lecture room. A cricket ridden bush. A standing ovation. The wind blowing trees; and metal scraping metal all at the same time. The closer he moved to his hall, the more unbearable it became. Now the whole thing was out of tune, spinning in the limbo version of cloud seven. Many colours. Many sounds. Uncontrollable rush. Pain. Severity. Gnashing of teeth. Demons. Many demons. More demons. The earphone demons. Pitch black. Void in forced screeching. Bursting screeching. Fork scraping metal. Many forks on metal. The sound was searing into his brain. Very soon it would rupture; like a rind of lemon slicing through his puerile mind. Sour tasting sounds. Intense sourness. More demons. More torture. The devil himself.