Quote:
You're visiting a friend or family member in the hospital and while walking down the hall, the fluorescent lights flicker, long enough for you to notice an eerie figure standing at the end of the empty hallway. Another flicker and the shadow grows closer - it's a deranged looking person, hair unkempt and eyes sunken into their sockets. A third flicker and the being is only yards away from you now, more grotesque in appearance than ever. A fourth flicker and…the lights return to normal, the hallway just as empty as it was when you originally turned to walk down it. Was it all an illusion? Maybe you're a little extra exhausted? Whatever the case may be, walking down the hallway you can't help but notice a putrid smell stinging your nostrils until you manage to turn the corner…
Julian had no real concept of why he was here other than the fact that he had been forced into coming by the conductor of his orchestra.
It was extremely irritating on a variety of levels that took an effort to contemplate. He was not the sort of man who visited anyone in the hospital, mostly because Julian did not make friends easily and rarely even knew anyone who would need visiting. He kept to himself, purposefully, because to do so otherwise would mean socializing, and that was a concept that Julian struggled with on an almost daily basis.
He did not know how to people.
He had been brought up in a very upright and correct family; one where music was by far the most important thing in the house, less so the familial connections. Julian's parents had both been musical, and that meant that he, as the only son, was also meant to be musical, and he was. His violin was a part of him, practically another limb in a way; he could not imagine himself without it, just as he could not imagine himself without an arm or a leg. It was all he knew and he was unwilling to give any of it up, because it was what he was good at, even if it meant sacrificing everything else.
He knew no other life. The idea of changing now was so unbelievably foreign, so outrageously ludicrous that he felt almost overwhelmed even trying to consider it.
Which was why, as he paced down the hall of the hospital with an even, measured tread of his feet, he could not fathom why his going to the hospital to visit a less-than-familiar orchestra member was important. Julian only knew the man as the third chair viola player and that his name was Joseph and that he was vaguely Hispanic looking; other than that, he knew next to nothing about the people he played beside, and he was perfectly content to leave it that way.
For the most part.
His conductor had impressed upon all of them, rather sternly, the importance of understanding one another in order to keep their playing cohesive and elite. They were a select orchestra with an even more select group of musicians; it was crucial to keep up their abilities and their connections, he said, especially with one another, since they were within each other's company for hours at a time, almost every day of the week.
But still. Julian could have gone without this particular foray into the unknown, especially considering that the man was here for a routine kidney stone removal, for Pete's sake. It was nothing dramatic, not even important; he was completely and utterly fine, if not a bit sore and cranky from the surgery. Julian did not comprehend what the point was, especially because he was relatively certain that Joseph would not understand why he was visiting any more than Julian would.
The hall he was currently traversing to find the man's room was dimly lit and empty. There was a pair of double doors at the end of it, and as Julian started down the way, his footsteps echoing slightly, he saw someone lurking near the doors, head turned slightly away. The lights above his head gave a flicker - momentarily going out before guttering back in again.
Julian's feet slowed. He felt something in him speed up, pulse quickening, and the figure in front of him turned, face gaunt and shadowed, eyes hollowed out.
"What the - "
He took a step back, an instinctive gesture, heart pounding, and he did not normally react this way; he was a man that possessed the rare talent of being unaffected by most things, and he took pride in that, because being emotional was ridiculous and useless. But something about the deepening shadows of the figure in front of him were making him feel uneasy in a way he had long since forgotten how to feel.
The lights flickered again, went out, and came back on, and Julian leapt back in shock, letting out a yell of surprise, because the figure was closer now, breath hot and foul; the stench of something dead and wasted wafted towards him, and Julian felt the greasy air shift around him, the figure opening a wide, gaping mouth, a horrific, awful expression, and then -
The lights went out. Came back on. Nothing was there.
His pulse was still rapid. Julian's head whipped around, but there was no one in sight except for a nurse opening a door near the end of the hall, wheeling a cart out of a patient's room and calling cheerfully, "I'll be right back, Mr. Hernandez; I'll bring you some more water!"
The door swung shut. The cart rattled as the nurse pushed it down the hall, giving him a smile as she passed, as well as a cheery "Good evening!" before continuing on her way, oblivious to the wide-eyed stare that Julian was giving her.
He felt as though he'd just run a mile. This was ridiculous. Trying to calm himself, Julian took a breath, pushed his shoulders back, and moved forward, because clearly this was all just him overreacting. Clearly he was seeing things because he hadn't slept in two days. That was all.
Everything was fine.
