Simple rhythm slowly slips into your mind. Booming bass deep and low, filling your chest with humming vibrations. Thume, Thume, Thume. The ivory sounds of piano twinkle in, light and somber in their melody. You hear the low echo of a cello in the background, who’s strings are a catacomb of whimsical mystery. Bringing you down into depths you didn’t even know existed. Each string trembles in anticipation of the next pass of the bow. One more they seem to whisper, Just One More. They wrap around your wrists, firm and commanding. You open your eyes. The room is dark. There is no furniture. The music turning slow circles in your head grows louder every few minutes. You wait and watch quietly, patience having claimed your normally havoc ridden mind for a few moments of itself (patience I mean). There is nothing else but this moment, as the dark wispy shadows start to appear. They come from the corners, ceiling and windows. Their turns are slow and graceful, full of smoke and a lingering sense of deception. The rhythm of the music is a low roar in the back of your mind as they approach you. With ghost-like finger tips, they coax you forward, bringing you into their world of whips' and shadows and darkness. The music stops. They disappear. You stand in the center of the dark, hushed room. Alone.