Fly on the Wall “The One Who Remembers”

It was the music, wasn’t it? The music changed first. Yes, it did. I remember. I have lived longer than most. I suppose I was too young when it started. Too young to have any inclinations to attach to. Too young to do anything but wait. I know my time is coming now. But where was I? Oh, yes. The music. The music changed. I noticed it quickly. I remember the days spent lounging in the living room. Music was one of the only things my parents could agree on. You see, my parents didn’t believe me, no one did. I was five, nothing a five-year-old says really makes sense. So, when I said the music was wrong, I was taken to the doctor. My parents, poor things, thought I was going deaf but it was not the case. I could hear it coming, in between the breaths and notes and waves of music to speaker. I could hear it growing and evolving. I could hear it plotting its ascension. I could… I could hear it speaking and changing my parents, taking them away from me. It happened quickly. All the adults were gone before anyone could gain a sense on the common link. In a way, I grew to be grateful. Not much hope for a five year old amongst adult strangers. Those around the same age as me? We gave each other a fighting chance, raised each other, looked out for one another. There was six of us. I was the youngest. Now I am the only. I hear it. Coming for me now. After all this time, the music. It still likes the music. I thought could beat it, with having such an unusual upbringing, but it adapts, learns. I thought that since I grew up in a world where it already existed, I wouldn’t be susceptible. It is coming for me, and the last of those who Remain.

 

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