Ever Heard O' This?

ASSALAMU`ALAIKUM WARAHMATULLAH

Alhamdulillah, still breathing happily and contentedly. Still be able to put up smile on my face, despite the burden that I'm shouldering. Tomorrow, a report shall be submitted to the lecturer, and tomorrow, a boy will have his nags by the said. Anyway, the typicality's insistence is insisting to stay. So, sorry lecs you just have to wait. 

Cello, anyone?

Quite recently, I always hear a cello being played (and I'm hearing it, right now) from the ground level. Who the heck would play cello this early? To cast those ugly feelings towards light extinction and friends' in absentia, I opened this blog. Its song, I thought, may cause the mysterious cello's symphony to die away. And yes it did. Feel safe to be here. Anyhow, I still always have my mind imagining a girl with an extremely overgrown hair playing a worn out cello. Follow my lead. 

Wearing a blood-smeared, bluish-white dress and has stitches on one of her cheeks, she looks in total destruction. Her hand whose fingers are possessing the bow, is moving to and fro on the cello's strings. Her eyes are closed, but the quartet she tunes is no less unaffected. Mouth curves down and her eyebrows frown in sadness. There is a watery line on her cheeks from her eyes, abridging the latter with her  round chin. She is suffering, I think.

From the song that her and her cello's manifesting, I can feel a faint agony. Grating, and the melody turns raspy before it ultimately changes to cacophonous. Dude, her eyes start to shed blood, both of it. Her mouth gurgles, but still in closed state. As she opens it wide, I can hear her mouth ripped and it bursts of scarlet, liquid stench. She giggles, her hand grooves even faster across the strings. The melody is no more melancholic and piteous but erratic and disorganized. Havoc with terror and putridness. First time do I experience smell and sound fused together into gore.

Lets shorten up this story. The girl, I think, was one of the Japanese victims, butchered here during World War II. This piece of land on which this very building erects was once an abattoir. Many were killed and burnt here. And so-like any other stereotypical horror tale, the victims are dissatisfied with their butcherer.

And they're haunting Malaysian instead of Japanese. Makes perfect sense.