Merry Musings

One day while listening to the Japanese band Merry this just popped into my head. Oh and when I talk about church and preacher in here I'm talking about a cult. The boy is in a cult. I repeat cult. So please don't feel angry or offended if your religious.

The lights were dimly lit and the wind blew very gently swaying the shadows they casted ever so gently. He smiled with a gentle air about him as he lit candle after candle. The squeaky old boards that surrounded him seemed to whisper to him to continue. This old attic was alive tonight. Down to the cobwebbed crevices and dusty corners. A single broken window laid to one side of the attic perfectly broken. I say perfectly because it allowed wind to go through in such a way that it gave off a howling like sound.

Now the boy finished lighting the last of the 60 candles and their weak glow made chills go through his arms. He laid in the middle of the attic letting the cold wind rush over him. This was his secret hideout. A place adults could not linger or the fears of modern day city bustle couldn't touch him. Other people were so odd to him. Busy creatures working faster and faster. They always had something to do or somewhere to be. In this modern age they were gifted with technology and countless conveniences but they still couldn't do things fast enough.

He watched as one of the candles was blown out by the wind. He didn't bother to get up and light it. Why fight with nature? The boy had no idea of the storm coming. If he did he probably would have left for the church a while back. A cage or better yet a conformist institution ran by a totalitarian style preachers who seemed to lurk in every rule they imposed. Today he was lucky. While at church there was that brief chance to slip to here. His hiding place that was covered by orderless candles and several boxes of matches.

He picked this house because it was abandoned. Unlike other abandoned houses this one kept a sense of decency. It withstood the natural decay of time and stood proud, owner-less but proud. Rain started gently pattering onto the roof and the boy looked up. He didn't have much time left in this sanctuary. He quickly went to every candle and blew their little flame out as gently as he lit them. No need for him to be rough when they fought so hard to stay lit. As he reached the last candle he blew it out with regret. Regret for having to leave this place. Regret for being born into a society such as this one.

The boy climbed through the window and felt the light drizzle of rain hit him. Its cold wetness went through his shirt. The shingles on the roof that he was standing on were slippery and he edged his way slowly to where vines safely laid for him to climb down. Once he was down he started to equip himself with his church persona. He ran towards the church once his feet decided to move. Each step bringing him closer to the world he tried to ignore. Another 6 days and a half in this world until he could return to the sweet confines of his solitude. That abandoned house on the corner of Mulberry Street.

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