Tango.

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There was a flood of music. The ivory curtains were shoved out of the way as the blinds snapped open to reveal the stunningly sunny weather. Soothing sounds of a trumpet, piano, and violin were playing harmoniously in the background while a beautiful voice belted out haunting lyrics to the addictive melody, a two-minute song on repeat. It was the only file that existed inside of this locked computer; the desktop that was once filled with billions of icons was now bare and empty. Strangely, everything seemed to have been erased and deleted… The smooth, silver keyboard connected to the laptop was freshly violated by dirty fingers, leaving obvious traces of fingerprints alongside an eyelash that had accidentally fallen and landed onto the spacebar. The black chair, tucked neatly beneath the wooden desk, had a radiating warmth to it. It looked to have been visited and touched by a human’s body not too long ago. Waves of maximized sound from this ‘.mp3’ consumed and dominated every piteous noise that attempted to compete with them. Things were awfully quiet and unusually gloomy. Even the animals outside were nowhere to be seen or found. No birds were chirping, no squirrels were scurrying up the trees, nothing. And even though the weather was particularly stellar and the elegant music was indescribably ravishing, it was always the same. Almost as if it were a hypnotic trance, this neverending, tragic song repeatedly played and continually blasted from the speakers, over and over again.


Then, in mere seconds, it appeared out of thin air. An immediate and jarring sound, a minuscule discordance, viciously thrown into this flawless tune. There was a very distinct ringing noise that held and suspended itself in the air. The vibrating sound waves tingled and hung in the air, making a faint, bell-like noise. It was reverberating from a metallic kitchen knife that had clattered and smashed upon the cold, bathroom floor. But of course, the pale, white door had to have been locked. What went on behind this curious door you might ask? Mistakes, a lot of them.


Various cotton towels were chaotically strewn and laid about in a frenzy. The brilliant white walls and linoleum squares startlingly contrasted with the sickening sight of blood. It was beautifully splattered and streaked across the entire bathroom, almost as if somebody had been furiously inspired to paint. The fullness of the red from the blood was shocking and nauseating to anybody but her. She was calmly sitting in the bath tub, filled to the brim with steaming, hot water. Scarlet droplets of blood immediately corroded and disturbed the tranquil, clear water. It was as if she was waiting for something, somebody. Maybe for somebody to burst through the door to stop her from acting so careless, or maybe she was simply waiting for death’s arrival. With her muddled and psychotic mind, she was puzzled as to why she was acting this way, yet she didn’t really mind. It had all happened entirely too fast. Drowning in warm water while slowly bleeding to death seemed to be the easiest way out, not to mention how pleasurable of an experience it looked to be.


But unbeknownst to her, she had made a fatal error in forgetting to take the golden key that was dangling on top of the ledge on the door frame. People would eventually discover her secret, her pains that she held in for years… People would be walking in on her ceaseless tango with death.





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