Dark Muse by David Simms Page A

that?”
    Poe approached, slow and with arms spread as
if the quaking might resume.
    “I saw them,” she said. “How?”
    Silver Eye took her hands in his. “Girl, in
this place, strange things happen. Not sure exactly why some of it
does, but music breathes here. It’s alive, part of
everything.”
    “But how? My eyes, things went from shapes in
a deep fog to near crystal clear.”
    His own eye scanned the scene. “All in good
time, my girl. But we’ve gotta move our cheeks outta here—now.
Those things won’t stay down long.”
    The group drew together again. “The way
back?” Muddy asked.
    “Same way we got here.” He lifted his harp
and began playing, thus ceasing further conversation.
    Both scared and fascinated, the band simply
followed. All of them repeated the same jam that brought them
there. Only once did the old man gesture for them to pick up the
tempo and power. Then the rolling began.
    As they had experienced during the trip
there, a “curtain” shimmered then parted.
    All stepped through without moving and the
images of the forest with the fallen creatures faded away like a
reflection on a pond after a rock was tossed into it.
    Muddy shut his eyes as dizziness infected his
vision. Behind the lids that shut out the changing land, the
journey from one plane of existence to another, the music slowed
then halted altogether. Curiosity pried them back open, only to
find that the landfill and reeking air had returned.
    The band stood on the path, looking as though
they just stepped off the Six Flags’ newest, wildest
rollercoaster.
    The music stopped, suddenly, probably due to
the “wow” factor that they had just survived whatever they’d just
traveled though. The silence struck a stronger chord than the
drumming things they’d escaped. Deafening nothingness pressed on
them, hard, causing them more than a little fright.
    “What the heck is wrong with you
people?” Silver Eye yelled.
    His voice sent a shudder so wild through
Muddy that his fingers flung the guitar string into the air.
    “What?” Otis stared at him, composed.
    The old man waved his arms as though he
wished to fly off to the Bahamas. “Were you kids raised in a dang
barn?”
    What?
    “We haven’t closed the door yet! You
don’t leave the door wide open at home, do you?”
    But it wasn’t a question. He was either mad
or scared. Either one was bad. Very bad.
    His old shoe stomped the ground sending a
cloud of dirt and dust into the air. It gave Silver Eye a mystical
aura that scared Muddy for some reason. Then again, the whole night
had scared the crap out of him.
    Poe broke the silence. “What door? We’re
back, safe. Aren’t we?”
    “No, we’re not, ” Silver Eye replied
sounding cranky, as though someone had just stolen one of the old
records they saw in his house. “We need to close the door.
You don’t want something from over there to follow you home, do
you?”
    “What things?” Otis asked. “We kicked the
crap out of those oafs…didn’t we?”
    The man walked up to Otis and stared deep
into the kid's unblinking black eyes.
    “Son, that’s just the tip of the ugly iceberg
that we saw over there. You have no idea what else is there,
just itchin’ to creep on through and wreak some havoc in our
world.”
    His eye went a little crazy. His hands
twitched. “Know how a few thousand people go missing each year? No
bodies ever found?”
    Otis shook his head, just like an obedient
dog.
    “Ever wonder what happens to them?”
    Otis found his voice. “Serial killers?”
    He turned toward Muddy. “He’s been reading
too many of your daddy’s books. Or not enough.”
    “How’d you know about my father?”
    Silver Eye belted out a laugh, melting the
tension somewhat. “I ain’t stupid. Or illiterate. I do know who’s
living in this town, good or bad.” A half-smile crossed his face.
“Smart dad you have there. Maybe one day you can ask him about
where we went. He’s got imagination and more.”
    Yeah,