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Mysterious Carolers (6) : Caroling has been a tradition for years, so it’s not really unusual when you hear a soft chorus from outside. What is unusual is that it’s three in the morning, and the moment they start singing you feel a chill in the air. Maybe it’s a holiday song, maybe it’s not, but whatever it is it’s a song you know before--from this life? From another?--and something about this version makes you go cold. If you move to the window, you will find no carolers, but the song is loud enough that you know you should be able to see them. They sing one song, and then there is silence. An eerie chill lingers, and your dreams are haunted by strange voices. You’ll probably never be able to hear that song again without feeling unnerved.
Khaz rolled over in bed, blinking blearily at his alarm clock. The red numbers glowed "3:00 AM" at him insensitively. What was he even doing up at this hour? It hadn't even been a nightmare, let alone any other kind of dream. It was cold, though. Really, really cold. Even under two winter blankets in a well-heated house with the blinds down, it was cold. That was...abnormal.
And...a sound. Like a song. He couldn't quite make out the words, though.
Sighing, he threw back his covers, swinging his legs out of the bed onto the thick, authentic Persian rug on the floor, reveling in the way the wool staved off the cold, maintaining what heat it could on a cold, snowy night like this.
Shuffling to the window, he bent the blinds aside, peering into the snowy "darkness", which was far brighter than it would have been this time of year, due to the snow reflecting back the light. Nobody. Nothing. There was no source to the song. He tilted his head, turning toward his bedroom door. Nope. Not coming from elsewhere in the house.
Where was it even coming from?
He could've sworn up and down that he'd never heard this song before, the muffled voices underscored by some kind of harp and a woodwind, a drum, too, which was odd. He'd never heard it before, and yet...he knew it wasn't the way the song was usually played. It wasn't supposed to be this slow and heavy. There shouldn't be a drum to emphasize the beats, especially not so heavily. It was downright ominous. And, while the singer's voice was high and lonely, there were other voices, too, and they hummed low in the spaces between the drumbeats. Altogether, it was the most eerie rendition he'd ever heard of a song he couldn't ever remember hearing, and yet knew he'd heard before. Often. Sure, it was sad, but never this ominous and threatening. Like a storm made of pure doom, looming on the horizon.
He couldn't catch the words, but he knew the verses anyway. A sad song, an old song. A tale of a love from long ago. A tale of love and hope in dark times. There was a sense that the words had been warped to take away hope this time. It was...wrong.
A chill ran down his spine, and lingered there, even after the song reached its conclusion and faded into the darkness. It took Khaz a moment to realize he'd retreated to his bed and wrapped himself up tight in the blankets, clinging to them and to himself. The song was over, and no other song came after. Nobody had been singing it. Shaking himself after another moment, he rolled over, sliding slowly back into sleep.
But he didn't find peace. Only the strange and abiding chill continuing to run laps along his spine, and the song, and strange voices he didn't know, and the sense that whatever he'd heard tonight, that song would never be right for him again. He'd always remember this rendition.
