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| The Audio Misfortunes of Arthur Wolfgang Part One Posted by: Captain Infernus at 10-10-2014 06:56 AM, Last Modified 10-10-2014 06:56 AM |
If you are reading this journal entry, I must warn you about what you are about to read. I am afraid this might be my last hour of sanity for my mind is still, after three years, having trouble processing how and why I ended up in a mental hospital for the criminal insane. I have been able to record most of my memory what happened to my dear friend, Arthur Wolfgang, in these pages. I will try with the best of my mental ability, to explain everything while at the same time not speak too much about the subject matter at hand. In my experience I have known people to abuse or question information to fuel a dark desire in their egos. So pardon me if I leave you in the dark on specific matters, but remember it is more of a benefit for your own well-being. With this friendly disclaimer introduced, it is time to tell you the misfortunes that has fallen upon two best friends.
My friend, Arthur Wolfgang, was labeled as a reclusive audiophile in high school. He only found solace at home, in the mildew and dust bowel of a basement, in his parents’ house, away from the cruel and unforgiving environment of the adolescent hierarchy at the learning establishment; high school. While I was also a loner in the ranks of the educational social class system, my friend had the worse of the negative interactions associated with bullying. You have to understand, he was indeed born as a wolf, but he had the courage of a mouse. The anxiety he possessed was at dangerous levels. His black fur on his body would fall out, as well the small green patch on his chest. Every time I look into my friend's emerald green eyes, I would feel nothing but sadness for him. It must have because he would idly just take the punishments that was inflicted on him by the brutes of the school. Not once did he muster any courage to speak against them and their misdeeds. It also did not helped either his built was weak and thin, much like a tea leaf. Oh how his face was consumed with dread and anger towards his tormentors. They would slam his body against lockers which over time became dented in the shape of his porcelain frame. One time his enemies rushed Wolfgang so hard into the metal door,his arm was in a cast for three months. The worse chapter he had endured was the time during a lunch session. The wolf was walking towards our usual spot, the area where the sunlight would shine right through the big glass windows, when one of the football team members pulled down his pants. This usually happens every week, but this incident was far worse than previous encounters. Did not only the jock, a mass of muscle crocodile, pulled down his jeans, but he also pulled down his undergarments along with them. Wolfgang was a late bloomer and it was very easy to see. No pubic hair and the size of his member was below average. The whole room roared with relentless laughter. Saying horrible names which I shall never repeat myself in this entry. After that day Wolfgang started getting home schooled and never left his sanctum; the basement, unless it was for some kind of audio ecstasy. Yet through all this, he remained a very kind lad and I am afraid that is why this world ended up devouring his soul. Within the confinement of the basement, the young wolf, he would spend most of his days listening to music. It did not matter what genre of musical vibrations was popular at the time, as long it struck a certain chord within his fragile soul. His spectrum of taste covers a wide variety from classical music composition to the more extreme side of the modern world, with metal music being on the top shelf of his music library. I still remember the most gay of days we had was in that basement listening to powerful vocal and instrumental attacks from his sound system. Maybe because of his passion for audio arts we became friends early on in our high school career. We would spend hours comparing different musicians and their musical abilities. I think my best and worse memories are in that little basement of his. It was our own realm and we were the masters of our land. The beauty and the emotional ties the two of us had with music made our friendship stronger than a steel sword used by knights from medieval times. Nothing could severed the chains that our friendship was made of.
When fall finally arrived, carrying with it the lovely fresh crisp air and pumpkin spiced delights, the nightmare started with an innocent situation. The stereo he had since his tenth birthday finally reached its life expectancy. You think with the tormented expression on Arthur's face, you might have thought someone close to him had died. Deep down I know the true reason for his emotional anguish. Not to derail the record, but I have failed earlier on in this entry about his parents. This will help explain why my close friend did what he had to do in a couple of a paragraphs in this journal. The ones that gave him life into this word was also a strange bunch. His father being the oddest one of them all. After probably around eight years after his wife gave birth to his son, the passion for his wife faded. She was too busy for him, in his opinion, only focused on the runt she managed to push out of her birth canal. The love life of the married couple faded to nonexistent. Twice a week, the father, he would go out at night and would not come back until dinner time the following day. It was not long for his wife to find out her husband was cheating on her. She was more destroyed by the fact her strong alpha of wolf had been cheating with multiple males. The alpha would always ridicule his cub for being weak. The father would even call his own son a faggot once he get home and reek of booze. When the alcohol flowed through the husband's body, he would violently attack both his mate and child. One night my dear colleague told me his father had caused him to black out by having a belt wrapped tightly around my friend's neck. They filed for divorce, but the strain it placed upon Wolfgang‘s mother was enough to cause something in her to snap. Yuna was hell-bent to keep the family together, but failed towards the end. The parents decided to stop the divorce so they can look like a good Christian family. While the husband was taking a knot of another, Yuna was also feeling the dry spell of having no pleasure. Unfortunately for Wolfgang, she set her eyes on him for her carnal desires.
Yuna started out just doing little odd things when the alpha was gone and she was left alone with her son. The female wolf would walk around naked around the house., asking her cub to rub her shoulders and paws. Arthur's mother kept her body at tip top shape. At first glance, most people would think Yuna was a model of some kind. Her legs would go high as a skyscraper, connecting to her perfectly rounded hips. The fur on her tail was full in volume and soft to the touch. It must have been to her many cosmetics and tiresome workout routine. So at first the shoulder, back, and thigh massages were normal when she came from the gym. Soon however she tricked the lad into massaging her breasts and the slit between her legs. My poor friend did not know he was getting abused. Why would he question it since his mother loved him so much? It made feel uncomfortable , but then again most things that does not revolve around music makes him anxious. He never told anyone, not even me. You are probably asking me how I know this fact, right? What I am about to write on this crisp piece of paper, will give me your very well deserved hatred. His mother sent Arthur out for some milk. I, of course, came over to visit my friend. I usually walk through the door without knocking. A nasty habit I know and a habit that tainted me at a young age. I walked down to the basement with a new vinyl to vibrate the walls with, when my gaze looked over to the couch middle of the room was Yuna. She had her eyes closed, moaning, as she violently attacked her own genital area with peanut butter. "Arthur you are back so soon. I am not even that warmed up yet for you", she moaned. Only thing I could do was freeze up like a deer in headlights. She opened her eyes and they met mine. I already had a vague idea what females look like under all their clothing, but seeing my best friend mother there naked , in a compromising posititon, was like being in a different universe all together. My attention was mainly on her full vertical lips. It was so strange to see and hear them being pawed at. It made me feel a little envious of my friend's interactions with his mother. When that thought slipped into my mind, my body started to do all the thinking for me.
It felt like years looking at each other. I felt I was either going to die there or forever lose my best comrade. Instead of shouting at me to get out of her house, she directed me with her pointer finger, between her thighs. With that motion I was her puppet. Every pull I tried to resisted from her invisible strings of lust, caused my body to burn inaide. Sadly though, I ended up giving the master all the power in the world; my friend's mother. I shall not say what happened in detail, but to this day, I cannot eat peanut butter without anxiety striking me down. Through the whole hour I was in the basement, she told me the abuse she forced her own son to do upon her body. I shall also not tell you what tragedies she have given to her own offspring. Only thing I can say about her is that her tail hole, when it comes to her son, became a taboo snack of incest.
Now back to the real nightmare at hand. My friend still hunched over with emotional pain, looked towards me in distress. Those eyes he possessed in that moment makes my own heart sink in with overwhelming sadness. When I tried to ask him if he could ask his parents for a new system, but his eyes only widen with fear when the question was asked. He mentioned the last time he asked his mother for anything he had to pay a personal price and when he said when he ask his dad the alpha would only slap his face causing a bruise hidden underneath his fur. Knowing his mother so well, I can only imagine what twisted bartering she had in stored for him. It was I who made the decision that doomed my friend, thinking it would protect him for one more night.
It was close to dinner time and all the street lights were blazing in the autumn night, like the northern star, guiding us towards our cursed destination. The sound of the leaves crushing and crumbling underneath our paws was a pleasant one. We just imagined the leaves were our enemies whom we had faced over the many years of our years in puberty. The air was chilled and the gentle breeze felt like a woman was blowing at us, with the sweet smell of hot apple cider on her breath, sending goosebumps onto our flesh. It was about two hours when we reached the desired location; the pawn shop. The building was stationed near an old railroad track which has been long ago taken back by the local vegetation. The rails were rusty and crumbling, much like the other surrounding warehouses, which were rumored to be occupied by strange gangs of the occult, presented a window into the past of a once thriving business district. The pawn shop itself is a strange one. You could say it was neither in a safe or dangerous neighborhood. Most other businesses in the area had at least shutter doors to keep out thieves, but the rumors about the pawn shop owner was more strange and intriguing.
The owner of the establishment goes by the name of Styx. Much like the mythological name represents, this female fox has a dark nature about her. Everything she does from the movement of her elegant body, to the tone of her voice, makes the customer think they were part of a malevolent trap. Styx says she is forty years of age, but her body itself looks like it is that of a healthy woman no older than twenty-four. The voiced she possessed had a thick accent of those who lived majority of their lives in the Bahamas. It was a lovely sound to those of the male kind, but to those who have ovaries, it made them stand on guard trying to protect their mate from being robbed of much more than money. Her eyes were a different story all together. They were an odd off color gray and many of those who visited her shop thought she was blind at first glance. One teenage even tried shoplifting there, but apparently she threw a tribal spear she kept in the back of the counter, into his hand before he ran off bleeding. Why didn’t she called the cops you may have asked? The boy went missing and no one, not even the public authorities, wanted to deal with her. She might be a vixen, but her actions speak of something tainted and relentless was behind those eyes of hers. Some speculate the tiny bones she weaved into her locks are the finger bones of the boy. Others also say the bones are part of an ancient tradition, passed down from many generations of Vodun followers to show her rank in the clergy. The world shall never find out the truth what the fox is hiding in the gray mass that is in her skull.
Once we stepped through the door of the shop, I felt in my chest cavity, an uneasy feeling of dread, as though I was a prey of a stronger and more dangerous predator. The shop walls had shelves which contained various kinds of sound systems, music instruments, and other eletronic devices. The shop walls also contained some strange decor as well. You could smell weird incense burning in the store. They smelled awfully close to, in my opinion, like rancid carrion. The old and crumbling animal skulls that hung on the walls made me felt I was being watched and threaten at the same time. There behind the counter was the angel of death, smiling with dark desire, at her new victims. Her eyes locked onto Arthur and gave him a innocent wink with her left eye. When my friend made contact with her empty eyes, I no longer existed to both them. In fact, it felt like if I was to scream with all my might, my voice would not be heard through the barrier their tension had built around them.
“Aye, come here young wolf," said Styx in her thick accent. “You look like someone be needing of something awe inspiring for the soul.” My friend, being a coward like he was, could not mutter even a sound of agreement, only his head which nodded to the statement of the fox. “A fine young man like ye self, needs something to enjoy his days. How about a stereo?” I know I should have not felt so frighten at her question. It is very common now for people to want to buy sound systems, but somehow I felt there was something she was hiding. I only clenched my fist shaking a little as if I was about to be devour by some unknown threat to my soul. Wolfgang, once again nodded his head, as his thinned out tail wagged just a little, creating a strong breeze against my cheek, from excitement or the overwhelming emotion I was experiencing from the she devil before us, I cannot tell you for sure.
Styx, pointed her manicured pointer finger towards the east wall, there you can observe many different audio systems. Most of the equipment looked like it went through ages of negligence. One of the smaller stereos even had the compact disc lid damage so bad, it looked like it was in a fire of some kind. Arthur, scrolled with his eyes, examined all the devices on the wall. The movement they were making was like of those of a dog, looking for the perfect bone to gnaw on. I swear I thought my dear friend was foaming at the mouth, once his eyes finally located their target. This device indeed looked too new for anyone willingly to depart with. It had all the works from a turntable to a CD player. It was Arthurs perfect audio fixation and wet dream. The way he looked it made me felt uneasy and slightly timid to be in it's presence. My first suspicion about the device was if it was stolen since there appeared to be no serial number nowhere present, anywhere on the stereo. The most unsettling thing about the object in question was the play buttons. They seemed to covered in a sticky substance. I could not tell what this residue was, but the aroma of bleach was most definitely present. Another queer appearance about the model the fact, it does not have a model name. I might not know much about electronics, but best to myknowledge, most audio devices have at least a brand name on them. My friend however disregarded the obvious signs of something wicked about the contraption. When I tried to voiced my opinion, Wolfgang only placed his paws around it and placed it on the counter for purchasing and just avoided my existence all together. I tried to ask the owner if there is anything we should know about the item, since it was a rather cheap price and the system looked brand new. " Nothing be wrong with it boy. If you question my business ethic one more time, I will just not sell it to your friend," the woman said in a dark, cool voice. My friend only looked at me with an expression mixed with both rage and sorrow. "Do not ruin this for me," my friend said in an ominous tone. I could only submit to his burning willpower and watched in a hurt state, as he handed over the money into the paws who might as well be the devil in the living fur. The last time I ever laid my gaze upon the woman was before we crossed through the door. Before the door shut behind our tails, I seen a devil smile spread on her maw. That night we stepped into hell and never returned to paradise.
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Comments:
| Driana: Flawless, I am definitely awaiting what is to come! |
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