Liner Notes (2025)

The flames danced. The shadows sang. The record spun. The liner notes in his hands cast an ethereal glow. They captured the light of the candles that encircled him. A dissonant pulse filled the air that echoed through his mind. Everything fell in time to the music.

                  The hunt, the trades, the money. Everything for this moment. It all led here. Fate culminating in one hushed meeting with an old woman in the back of an abandoned record store. Now it was in his hands. The first edition, limited pressing of Her final album, released posthumously. Said to contain Her very essence. She imparted Her final breath into this recording, now sealed in the black wax upon his turntable.

                  Her spirit danced. The shadows watched. The candles glowed. A spectral figure locked in time to Her song. He sang the sacred words aloud, an outpouring of his own spirit. A sacrifice to the specter that moved in rhythmic time before him. Through his mind’s eye he saw it all. The more he sang, the more he felt himself slip in time to the music. The conductor of this spectral magic. The liner notes, the music, the flames. The hypnotic thrall of cadence and shadows.

                  The crescendo screamed. The shadows swam. The specter danced. He held the liner notes aloft. A final sacrifice. The knife glowed red in the candlelight. A swift strike. The blood dripped down his fingertips. He lowered the liner notes to the black wax candle in the center of the circle. Blood, fire, spirit. A dissonant symphony. An outpouring of his heart to the shadow that danced in the liminal space between light and dark. His blood the conductor. Fate dripped in time to the music.

                  The flames devoured the liner notes. The specter looked on. His spirit the sacrifice now sealed in the black wax before him. The fire etched words into the tome, written by some invisible hand. A hidden track. He sang the words. The record skipped. The shadows danced.

An unwavering melody. Then silence.

An interlude.

                  The liner notes slipped from his grasp. The blood on his hands the tribute. The shadows the witness. The hidden track played on.

                  The specter stepped into the flames. He watched them leap higher and take shape. The specter now one with the wax and the flames. She extended a fiery hand. He accepted Her invitation. It did not burn.

                  He felt Her warm embrace as She lifted him up. They danced in time to the music. The candles shuddered and then went dark. Their shadows becoming one as they danced across the floor. The moonlight a stage for their dissonant union.

                  The record spun. The shadows sang. She danced. To be haunted was more beautiful than She ever could have known.