keith's ramblings: The gathering

This week's words at The Sunday Whirl are spin sighs level exists trump kick dressed bust visit music and system of which I have used all but two.

I was sitting on a hard chair in a drafty hall. How I got there, I really don't know. I was midway in a semi-circle of sombre grey-faced people who sat motionless staring at the floor. Like them, I was dressed in a long black robe.

I remember trying to leave, but I was unable to move a muscle. Instead, I found myself staring unblinkingly into the bulging white eyes of a granite bust which sat on a plinth facing us.

The only sounds were the occasional sighs of those that sat beside me.

The light began to fade, dimmer and dimmer until we sat in total darkness.

It was then the noise started. Softly at first, then louder and louder. It was not

music; it was the screeching sound of a bow scraping across the strings of a violin. Still the level increased. My ears hurt; I thought they would burst. The pain was unbearable. I wanted to push my fingers into my ears, but I was still unable to move.

Then at once the sound ceased and a sabre of light penetrated the blackness illuminating the grotesque bust with its sunken cheeks and downturned twisted mouth,

It stared at me, I unwillingly stared back. Its mouth started to move as if it were trying to speak, but there was not a sound. The people either side of me turned to face me. Their mouths began to move in unison. Still not a sound. They became animated, stood, then gathered around me pointing with their trembling bony fingers. Why were they messing with my mind? Why did I visit there? Why? Why?

I began to spin - or it was the room? I couldn’t tell. Everything was a blur. Something kicked my chair from beneath me. I fell in a heap onto the floor.

Moments later I found myself standing outside in the rain. Dear old Mr Foggerty walked past. He smiled, said hello and muttered something about the inclement weather.