4
A Garden of Graves
So this is how this dream is going to work, shifting time whenever it wants?
Puzzled, Shew rested her hands on the table, which transformed into strips of black and white, shorter strips of black and longer strips of white. The table was taking the shape of a large piano.
Looking back in the mirror, she saw the whole room change behind her. She was being transported to another time and place in the dream, to a big echoing hall in the castle when she was around two or three years younger than she was in the Waking World.
Finally, the mirror in front of her exploded into ashes that turned into ravens as they flew out of the window, and all she could hear was the annoying sound of a man who she believed was her music teacher.
“This is the wrong note,” the man screamed and pulled his hair. He had hair like Einstein, and wore an oversized tuxedo. “This is a B# not B,” he poked keys furiously.
Shew rolled her eyes, sitting with her hands on the piano. Who was this annoying man? She played several keys trying to comply.
“That is even worse,” the veins in his neck throbbed. He looked like he was battling invisible bees pecking on his face. He was unusually hairy. “This is an A.”
“A is good,” Shew tried to make a joke. “A+ is even better.”
“What?” he glared at her, looking as if he was about to choke her with the piano’s strings, chop her fingers off and use them as keyboard keys. “What is an A+?”
Ignoring the mad man behind her, she read the title of the melody she was supposed to play. It said:
The Magic Flute in G major
By Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
“I’ll never understand why a piece of music named The Magic Flute is played on a piano,” she poked, knowing it would drive her teacher crazy. “It should be played on a flute, Mr.—” she didn’t know what to call him so she glanced back at the transcript and saw his name scribbled at the bottom. “Mr. Oddly Tune?” she scowled. “Are you sure it isn’t Dudley?”
Oddly almost jumped, kicking his feet against the base of the piano.
“She is making fun of you because you’re not firm with her,” the Queen of Sorrow called over the banister on the second floor. “I want her to memorize this song by noon and perform it at the ball we’re having tonight.”
“But that’s impossible, my Queen,” Oddly said. “She's horrible.”
“Don’t call my daughter horrible,” Carmilla said calmly. Oddly sweat beads the size of lemons. “Or I’ll have you hung by the noose.”
“That’s not fair,” he mumbled. “I am a respected musician. I shook hands with Mozart himself."
The Queen shook her head and left the hall, calling for her servants on the other side of the castle.
“Don’t worry, Dudley,” Shew said. “I think I got it. This is an X minor, right?”
“There is nothing called X minor!” Oddly’s face reddened. It deformed as if his cheekbones were cracking from the inside. His back curved awkwardly and his feet grew big, ripping his shoes apart. Hair was growing swiftly all over his feet and face. Mr. Oddly was turning into a werewolf.
What should I do now? Is this memory or just a dream going nowhere?
Oddly, the werewolf grabbed Snow White’s fingers and banged them against the keyboard. “This is an A, you filthy brat,” his eyes yellowed and his fangs showed. The odd white hair on his head smoothed out and grew longer down his shoulders. “And this is a B!” he banged her fingers again.
“That hurts, Mr. Dudley,” Shew said.
“It’s Oddly you irritating princess,” he said in an evil voice that sounded if his throat had turned into a sewer pipe spitting out its guts. “I’m going to break your fingers one by one. You’ll never play an instrument for the rest of you life.”
“Mother!” Snow White pleaded. Mr. Oddly clamped her mouth shut with his hairy hand. “If you scream, I will hurt you again. Be a good girl and come with me.”
She pulled his hand away. “Come with you where?”
“Night Sorrow wants to talk with you,” the werewolf grinned.
So that’s what the memory is about. I am being kidnapped and taken to my grandfather?
“You know what?” Shew said. “That’s an awful lot of hair,” her fangs grew and she bit him in the neck. She didn’t know if it was part of the memory or her own action, having been overly annoyed by this music teacher. “Mozart this!” Snow White sighed impatiently and kicked him between his hairy legs.
It was interesting, how Oddly dropped to the floor like an electrocuted fly, buzzing a little then turning back into a music teacher who looked like Einstein. Only this time he was dead. Anyone who entered the room would have thought she just killed an innocent man.