Jonas was a middle aged concert player, who lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood, with his wife and daughter. One Sunday afternoon while his wife and daughter were in church Jonas decided that it was time to work on the attic. He climbed the squeaky pull-down stairs; never anticipating that it would be his last. Flashlight in hand he quickly scans the old attic to access how much work there was to do. To his surprise in the far corner was his old violin, the one his wife sold more then ten years ago. He approached the instrument with joyous anticipation. Putting his flashlight under his arm as he bent down to pick up the frail instrument, like a Latin lover. “Hmm never thought I would see this old thing again” he thought to himself as he walked back to the stairs.
Suddenly his fathers chair slid across the rough, wooden floor of the attic, knocking out his knees from under him. The violin dropping to the floor with an awful clank, as the flashlight plunged the room into darkness when the bulb broke and the door to the stairs slammed shut. He tried to stand up or somehow escape but the invisible bonds held him in place. He felt the pain of his skin being cut by an unseen scalpel. Yet he was completely alone. The wooden beams were exposed but he couldn't see the old rotting wood of the trusses that held up the roof or the support beams. The musky smell of mold filled his nose intensified by the terror of being so helpless. But in the demons eyes the father deserved nothing less. It was about time he felt what his daughter felt each time he went into her room at night. Slowly the demon worked his magic. Pealing of the thinnest strips of skin it could. It started with the fathers scalp slicing him down like a child playing with a banana peal. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, down the forehead, the nose, the lip till the skin finally gave with a snap. The father unable to pass out, feeling every anguishing moment, his nerve endings on fire. Yet not a single drop of blood stained the ceder floor. His screams were as silent as his little girls. The cold sweat that rolled down his brow only served to intensify his agony. He had come up to the attic to clean out the cob webs, but instead he was the one about to get cleaned out. He was in the hands of one very; Angry; Demon. Even in the deepest circles of hell this sin was worth a thousand tortures. Which is why the demon was taking his time ensuring the father remained alive through out the full ordeal. His real torment wouldn't start till he got to hell but that didn't mean that the demon couldn't enjoy torturing this despicable piece of dirt while he was still alive. After all he sold his soul for a worthless violin. The demon made another incision, this time starting just behind the ear. Slowly pealing the strip of skin down the monsters neck, shoulder, arm, the demon took particular pleasure ripping out his victims fingernail. To add insult to injury, the demon took the strip of skin and waved it around in front of Jonas's face before forcing his mouth open and stuffing it down his throat. So it went, piece by piece, inch by inch. The tormentor became the tormented. The demons grates pleasure came when he got to the be the executioner of the man that caused the loss of the girls innocence. He cut the skin of like pealing the thick skin of a polish sausage, and boiled the blood from the inside out, till it exploded from the heat. The fathers eyes rolled to the back of his head exposing nothing but the whites of his eyes. His head slumped forward never to come up again. The demon picked up his violin and played the most somber melody under heaven. As he played the fathers soul was pulled out of his body and trapped within the strings of the violin, adding his voice to the thousands of tortured souls which were the strings of the cursed instrument. Creating a melody somewhere between an angelic chorus and the sound of metal grinding of train wheels on their rails. Once a soul became a part of the instrument it was doomed to the torment of every soul that came before and after it.
Suddenly his fathers chair slid across the rough, wooden floor of the attic, knocking out his knees from under him. The violin dropping to the floor with an awful clank, as the flashlight plunged the room into darkness when the bulb broke and the door to the stairs slammed shut. He tried to stand up or somehow escape but the invisible bonds held him in place. He felt the pain of his skin being cut by an unseen scalpel. Yet he was completely alone. The wooden beams were exposed but he couldn't see the old rotting wood of the trusses that held up the roof or the support beams. The musky smell of mold filled his nose intensified by the terror of being so helpless. But in the demons eyes the father deserved nothing less. It was about time he felt what his daughter felt each time he went into her room at night. Slowly the demon worked his magic. Pealing of the thinnest strips of skin it could. It started with the fathers scalp slicing him down like a child playing with a banana peal. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, down the forehead, the nose, the lip till the skin finally gave with a snap. The father unable to pass out, feeling every anguishing moment, his nerve endings on fire. Yet not a single drop of blood stained the ceder floor. His screams were as silent as his little girls. The cold sweat that rolled down his brow only served to intensify his agony. He had come up to the attic to clean out the cob webs, but instead he was the one about to get cleaned out. He was in the hands of one very; Angry; Demon. Even in the deepest circles of hell this sin was worth a thousand tortures. Which is why the demon was taking his time ensuring the father remained alive through out the full ordeal. His real torment wouldn't start till he got to hell but that didn't mean that the demon couldn't enjoy torturing this despicable piece of dirt while he was still alive. After all he sold his soul for a worthless violin. The demon made another incision, this time starting just behind the ear. Slowly pealing the strip of skin down the monsters neck, shoulder, arm, the demon took particular pleasure ripping out his victims fingernail. To add insult to injury, the demon took the strip of skin and waved it around in front of Jonas's face before forcing his mouth open and stuffing it down his throat. So it went, piece by piece, inch by inch. The tormentor became the tormented. The demons grates pleasure came when he got to the be the executioner of the man that caused the loss of the girls innocence. He cut the skin of like pealing the thick skin of a polish sausage, and boiled the blood from the inside out, till it exploded from the heat. The fathers eyes rolled to the back of his head exposing nothing but the whites of his eyes. His head slumped forward never to come up again. The demon picked up his violin and played the most somber melody under heaven. As he played the fathers soul was pulled out of his body and trapped within the strings of the violin, adding his voice to the thousands of tortured souls which were the strings of the cursed instrument. Creating a melody somewhere between an angelic chorus and the sound of metal grinding of train wheels on their rails. Once a soul became a part of the instrument it was doomed to the torment of every soul that came before and after it.