Where was the incident occuring where the blood dripped in the wrong direction. It was defiance of gravity, and the disobendience to a higher power frightened Marvin. He was scared, enraged by the life he had been leading. Enjoying fewing things, he devoted most of his cold heart to the sonds of gongs. His house was filled with them. A careful pathway had been cut through the apartment to make room for his peculiar collection.
He would purchase them at auctions with a rapacious hunger. The opponents around him felt they had no choice when he bet. His foul language and unkempt manner was protected by what everyone enuciated with fear, the handicap. Marvin took a certain relish the word. It did not bother him, but rather amused him in the way the people around him tried to make themselves feel safer by making names so safe. The way people called dead bruised and battered baby cow into a nice cut of veal. You could ignore the viscera that sprays everywhere when they fled them. Marvin of course had taken years to have developed the skills to imagine. How could he possibly see things when the use of his eyes had conformed to permanent darkness?
The vibrations are what helped him. His many drumsticks were nearly worn away. The method took an impossibly long time. To Marvin, it seemed short. He had spent his entire life frustrated, what was a little more pain for such an incredible award. One that would make everything perfect, different and loving.
The first gong was small, a brassy touch and smell. This particular one being purchased in nepal. The wood had the residue of hashish, the religious variety. The first vibration was young and small. It usually took thirty seconds for Marvin to be caught in the pulses of the metal disc. For other people who would stop by, it would take them longer, for Marvin capabilities of sense were very heightened since one had been taken away. An extreme way to try and make amends. However, he was still fearful. He proposed that the noises were first an impulse. A support system that he had designed by the grace of a higher force.
Marvin was being tested. However the new things he would discover with his vision would shock him, appall him into retching his lunch across the counter of a pricey restaurant in a town with tall buildings. Silver Spires filled with those who never suffered so decided to design there own. Trying to be comfortable with a sense of entitlement after being ridiculed by simply being stuck in a cubicle during the daylight hours.
The following gongs increased in circumference. Marvin began to feel strange. He would wake up and feel something intense and raw. When he blinked and looked into the milky maw of nothing, something began to happen. What was the color. It reminded him of the cold touch of metal. It danced inside the fragments of what could have been the ability to look beyond the tips of his fingers. He went and put on music. As it played the lines appearing in his eyes starting to move around. What was this? Everything had begun to show it's own vibration. As if to show them that the thousand ignored objects were also in plain sight of sight.
The fences in the front of the yard would greet him in the morning. The handle of his skin twisting like a snake as he slowly ambled to work. The way his co worker was in the wrong place when he walked into the office.
Gary, was on the ceiling, typing on his laptop computer. He drank the coffee, which clung to the inside of his cup. The brim of the mug smiling with a mouth filled with hot coffee. He began talking and the coughed lightly. Blood began to trickle out of his nose and dropped down onto the floor. Why was the blood only following the laws of psychics?
It was strange, Marvin tried to cover his ears, but once you open the invitation to temptation it is only fair to accept the consequence. What Marvin did then was shut off yet another part of his heart, when perhaps he had been missing one last instrument.
