Jason Porter was just a regular 14-year-old boy. He loved hanging out with his friends, hiking and playing music. Boy, did he love playing music. He could strum his guitar until his fingers were blistered. He could play piano until his fingers spasmed with exhaustion. He could blow his saxophone until lassitude made him want to collapse. He was a musician through and through. He even looked like one, with a relatively skinny frame and only slightly muscular arms, that were muscular because of lugging around heavy instruments and equipment.
There was one problem; he hated playing in front of other people. The simple thought of it made his stomach turn inside out. He wasn’t a particularly shy boy; he had lots of friends! Yet something about showing them his music made his heart leap into his throat.
Jason especially loved playing outside – often in remote places where no one could hear him. One day he found a nameless forest a few miles from his home. He chose his guitar that day, as a saxophone would scare off the wildlife. Jason ran his calloused fingers up and down the strings, playing and singing as if the music was a part of him, feeling like he was in another dimension; something only musicians understand. He was in the world in between – a world made of music and darkness. Then something felt off. When he opened his eyes, it was as if he hadn’t opened them at all. Outside it was pitch black, the vines blocking out any light that the trees filtered through. His throat was so sore from singing that he couldn’t talk. His fingers ached.
Jason stood up urgently. His short dark blonde hair tingled on the back of his neck. His body tensed; danger was coming. His grip on the guitar tightened. Something was not right. Only a second before he ran had he realized what was wrong. It was silent.
Even at night, you can hear the crickets chirping, or coyotes howling. As he sprinted, he could only hear the crunching of the leaves beneath his feet. Something scared away the wildlife, and he did not want to meet that something. He heard a deafening BOOM! Whatever that was, it was closing in. he was consumed with the realization that there was no way that he was outrunning this thing.
Jason tried to run faster. Despite the cool air, beads of sweat ran down his face and dampened his back. He held a death grip on his guitar as he leapt over vines and rocks instinctively – his feet almost flying. The frets dug into his fingers, but he barely registered the pain. The boom sounds came closer and closer, until they were directly behind him. He spied the edge of the forest, but before he could get there, a massive explosion knocked him off his feet. The world dimmed, and he reached for his guitar, which had been knocked out of his hands despite his strong hold on it.
The explosion had caused fires to burn in the underbrush, making it easier to see. Unfortunately, that was the bad news. Above him loomed what looked like a monster that looked almost human from the waist up. Its bare chest rippled with muscles bigger than Jason. Ripped arms vaunted tattoos, and each bulge of muscle was as thick as a redwood tree. This was nothing compared to its face. Boar tusks tore out from both sides of a snarling mouth filled with vicious fangs. Its eyes were red, bloodshot with anger. Its ears were pointed and barely visible behind a shaggy black mullet. Around its waist were the faces of a lion, a wolf, and a goat, snarling. This monster had reptilian, scaly legs that were dark gray. Worst of all, the creature’s hands were coated in a dark red sticky substance. Jason’s sky-blue eyes widened in horror. This couldn’t be real.
He shakily stood up, his ears still ringing from the explosion. The monster huffed, blowing steam as its evil eyes focused on him before charging at top speed. Jason jumped sideways at the last minute, barely escaping the monster’s grasp. The monster turned around at once. Okay, so the monster isn’t slow, thought Jason. His heart was pounding with fear. His lungs were working overtime from hyperventilating. The monster glared at him, the fire making its eyes seem to glow. It charged again, but when Jason tried to dodge it once more, the beast was expecting it. The colossus thrust out its arm and caught him in its huge mitts. The monster started to squeeze.
Then, in a sinister baritone voice, the monster said one word, “Sing!”. Jason’s eyes dilated in shock. Somehow, he kept his voice calm, “Put me down first.” The monster obliged. Jason’s guitar thankfully hadn’t been crushed by the weight of the beast’s crushing hand. He attempted to strum a chord, but his hand was shaking too much to form one. When he opened his mouth, nothing came out. His breathing became more rapid. He tried to control it by taking deep breaths. He wiped his hands on his jeans. He closed his eyes and tried to sing once more. This time, a beautiful melody came out. He strummed his guitar, gaining confidence. He sang of running from fear and finally standing his ground. Of the opportunities and memories that he missed out on, because he was simply too scared. After a few minutes he heard the sound of soft snoring. He stopped singing and backed away.
The rest of the night was a blur. Jason couldn’t remember getting home or going inside. He must have, though, because he awoke in his bed. He’d apparently changed because he was in his pajamas, though he couldn’t remember that either. The last thing that he could remember happened was singing in front of that monstrous beast. From then on, though, his fear had disappeared. He sang to his friends that same day.