TDV 82: The Wrong House Of Worship

November 8th, 2012 by Sharkchild

His play of the piano was remarkable. The way his fingers careened along the keys was like a swift and gentle stream that invoked the serenity and beauty of nature’s kiss. His melodies, with their masterful fermatas and crescendos, called out in prayers to the ears.

The music was a triumph beyond those things known, but the man himself was troubling to behold. He had eyes and a smirk that told of unlawful things, but it was more than just that. He was evil and there was no second guessing that notion. It could be felt. It could be seen. It was simply—yet unexplainably—known. Thick brown hair covered his head and a sharp, black suit fell upon his figure.


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