The Way the World Ends...
**Walking along a deserted street near dusk one evening, I became aware of the sound of footsteps some distance behind me. Although I knew it was foolish, I slightly increased my pace. To my discomfort, the unknown walker behind me did the same. I ventured a glance over my shoulder...
...the person behind me was caucasian and male, fairly young but not extremely so, and he was wearing a jacket and tie, the jacket slightly ill-fitting and the tie off-kilter, giving him a somewhat rumpled appearance although he was remarkably well-dressed for this day and age. More strangely, the appearance and style of the clothing as well as the hairstyle of the man was anything but contemporary; he wore his hair with a part, and looked as if he might have stepped out of the 1950's. Feeling even more uncomfortable now, I increased my walking pace yet again, as fast as I could walk without jogging. That would have been ill-advised, I decided, in case my pursuer had robbery on his mind.
Somehow I doubted that robbery was in the offering, however, a thought which filled me with a chilling fear that perhaps something even more horrible was. While my pursuer looked out of place in this century and almost too clean-cut to be real, didn't most homicidal maniacs look just like anyone else?--Or was I some kind of sexual mark for this guy, although he certainly wasn't my type. Abandoning all pretense of appearing cool and non-distressed, I broke into a a jog but noticed that the guy behind me was not only keeping pace, but slowly gaining on me. As he drew nearer I ventured a glance again, and noticed that the man appeared to have an unnerving hint of a grin on his face, one which appeared to curl upwards into a kind of sneer at the edge of his mouth.
I began running harder, the unaccustomed effort causing me to breathe heavily, my breaths coming harder and faster. The guy somehow continued to gain on me, his dress jacket close enough now that I could see the plaid pattern of its fabric and the narrow lapels of its style, vintage 1950's stuff. A kind of panic seized my mind of the type which can only come when things just aren't making sense, when the pieces of reality your senses are bringing you don't seem to fit together, and you feel yourself transitioning to another time and another place. Running hard, tiring, and preoccupied my toe caught the edge of an upraised piece of sidewalk, and I fell, the heels of my hands painfully abraiding against the grit of the sidewalk as I caught myself going down.
In a moment my pursuer was upon me, looking somewhat smug that he had caught up with me. "My goodness!," he said with no note of concern, "We seem to have taken a bit of a fall!--Well, you're not really hurt, are you?--No, of course not, big strong boy like you!--I'll only take a moment of your time, then I'll be on my way, OK?--So tell me, how would you like to be popular with all of the girls, and the hit of every party?--Just look what I've got for you!," he said with a somewhat menacing smile as he withdrew something from the pocket of his jacket. My eyes darted to the small, silvery rectangular object he held; it appeared to be...a harmonica!
"Now this model has been very popular with almost everyone who tries it," offered the strange, out-of-place figure with his equally inappropriate token. "Why don't you just give this a try?," he asked, advancing the absurd thing towards my lips. "It practically plays itself!," he added. "we're running a special on it this week, for a limited time only!" Were my eyes deceiving me, or did this guy have...cloven, hoof-like feet?
No...there was no way that this freak, this goat-thing was going to put his mouth organ anywhere near my face!--I struggled in vain to try to get up, I pushed against his advancing arm, but he seemed incredibly strong, and the metallic object continued its advance towards my lips. I screamed, and that was all the opportunity that he needed to put the loathsome thing in my mouth! I couldn't seem to breathe, the horrid object making choking musical sounds from my throat...then the world seemed to spin around and drift into a glowing mist, and I passed out...
...that was many months ago, and I sit now upon a large rock near a wooded area, playing my diatonic harmonica with extraordinary feeling and skill, drawing the attention of all who pass by me with my impromptu concert. Another young man walking by nods at me, and withdraws from his pocket a harmonica, holding it close to his body so that only I can see it. I return his nod, and continue playing. We are many now, where not long ago we were few. Our numbers are steadily growing...Pan is a great and wise leader...
...and to think that I once resisted!**