James Grey and The Song of Fear

James Grey and the Song of Fear is the tragic tale of a young boy coping with the loss of his family and the monster living inside of him. With each word the separation between boy and horror begins to fade, leaving you to wonder where the nightmare ends and the child begins.

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The rhythmic sound of beeping slowly woke James from his nightmare. As he gradually regained consciousness, he realized that he couldn't move, he could only stare up at the tiled ceiling above him and listen to the rhythmic beeping.

I can free you

Dozens of wires and electrodes protruded from James' body and wrapped around the outside of the bed into the many machines spread along the wall behind him. With his head pinned to the bed, James could barely make out the silhouettes of the people shifting around him, each occupied with their tasks and machines.

"Hello?" James croaked.

A bespectacled face leaned in James' line of sight. He could barely make out the mans brown eyes from behind the reflection on his glasses. His hair winged with grey and was neatly slicked back and if there was any sign of emotion on his face, James struggled to find it.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey," The man said, his lips parted into a narrow smirk revealing only a sliver of his teeth.

"Who are you?" James asked, his voice dry and throat sore.

The man continued to stare down at James, his smile growing wider. "My name is Doctor Monroe, from here on out I will be taking care of you. Well, that is if your grandmother decides to retrieve you."

"My grandmother?" James had never known his grandparents on his father's side. He was told that they had passed away long before he was born of old age somewhere in Nebraska. He had never met his grandparents on his mother's side and his dad had never mentioned them.

"Interesting, don't you know your grandmother?" Doctor Monroe asked incredulously, as he clicked his pen and began to take notes.

"Why can't I move?" James said, ignoring the Doctor's question. Noting that the sound of writing paused for a moment.

"Yes, after your last outburst we had to take... measures. Seeing that you have a history of night terrors, I have determined this is the best solution for your safety as well as those around." Doctor Monroe stepped out of James' sight, leaving him to stare up at the brightly lit ceiling. "Due to the extenuating circumstances, surrounding your case, I have selected you to take part in specialized treatment for children like you."

"What do you mean children like me?" James asked, testing the bindings holding him to the bed. A hand gripped his arm painfully and Doctor Monroe reappeared above him.

"It would be best if you'd relax," He looked across the bed at one the others in the room. "Please dial it back point five percent."

"Minus five percent, done," A feminine voice responded quickly.

"What's going on? What are you doing to me?" Anxiety and panic began to overcome him as the once rhythmic beeping that had roused him from his slumber became increasingly erratic.

"As I already said Mister Grey, treatment. Now, I have a few baseline questions," Doctor Monroe clicked his pen once again. "First, is your name James Vincent Grey?"

James struggled frantically against his constraints. "Let me go! I want to go home!"

Ask me

A low whistling sound seemed to burst from beneath his bed and just as it reached it's highest pitch, it cracked and James felt a sharp pain pierce his neck and temples, causing every muscle in his face to contract tightly and his body to convulse. Unimaginable agony erupted into his brain causing small spots to fade in and out of his vision.

"Ah, be careful to answer calmly, James." Doctor Monroe said with a light chuckle.

"Why are you doing this to me?" James' eyes began to water.

"You may not understand this now, but what I'm doing is helping you. By the time I'm done with you, not even the end of the world will worry you. I am developing a method to deal with mental trauma." He said with a condescending tone, as if it were something far out of James' grasp. "Now, let us proceed, shall we? What was the relationship like with your father?" He asked.

James hesitated for a moment, his eyes darted around looking for anything or anyone that could possibly help him.

"Did you hear me, James?"

"It was fine, he took good care of me. He worked a lot, but he always made me breakfast," James stated, sweat beginning to form on his brow.

"I see. When we found you two nights ago, you were unconscious in your basement with several breaks to your right arm. How did you come to be in the basement, James?" Doctor Monroe's eyes narrowed as he waited for James' response.

James considered telling him everything. Telling him about the ghost that haunted him, the forest, the odd witch and her shop. He wasn't sure if he'd believe him, but then he remembered the pain from his last response. He wasn't sure if a lie would trigger another shock or whether or not the Doctor himself controlled when the shocks came.

Don't

After a long moment of silence, he decided to tell the doctor the truth. Half out of fear of being shocked again and half because he wanted someone to tell him it was just a dream. Because he needed someone to. He had no one else to share the story with, to experience it with and laugh about how absurd and nonsensical it truly was. So, he began at the beginning with the argument that morning and continued all the way until he was thrown back into the basement. As the story unfolded and James spoke, it wasn't humor or understanding that appeared on Doctor Monroe's face, it was curiosity.

"Incredible, his brain has already repressed the memory." Doctor Monroe whispered, scribbling furiously.

"What do you mean?" James wondered if the Doctor had even heard a word he had said.

"Had your father ever hit you before?" Doctor Monroe abruptly asked, ignoring James' question.

"What?" James snapped back. "No, he would never do that."

Doctor Monroe stopped writing and locked eyes with James. Even through the reflection on his glasses, James could see the skepticism. "James, I know this is difficult for you to accept but your father was abusing you, all evidence suggests it. You may not remember everything right now but..."

"No, he wasn't!" James interrupted, Feeling his blood beginning to boil. "I said, we had a fight and he went to work that's all!"

Doctor Monroe smirked sympathetically and shook his head. "No, my boy, that's just what your mind wants you to believe. Fantasy and magic are figments of your imagination, it's scientific fact."

"It's not! It really happened!" James yelled angrily and couldn't believe he was defending the memory he had hoped to disprove a moment before. "You don't know anything! My dad would never..." the whistle came again, followed by a sharp crack and of course... the pain.

"Again, I'm going to have to ask you to remain calm, James." Doctor Monroe said simply but James was anything but calm.

"LET ME GO! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" He shouted, furious. "DON'T LET HIM DO THIS TO ME! DO SOMETHING!" James cried out to the shadows surrounding him, hoping to find a hint of humanity in the room. But the only thing that came was the whistle and the crack.

Ask me

"HELP ME! PLEASE!" He cried and almost instantly a new pain erupted inside of him. It wasn't the shock of the machine beneath him, it was something else. Something that clawed at his insides and burned through every vein with frightening speed as if something were trying to escape the prison of his body. Unimaginable pain and torment dragged him into a new nightmare unlike any he had ever experienced.

The skeptical look vanished from Doctor Monroe's face and was replaced by surprised delight as James' skin began to fade to a deathly pale. His pupils began to dilate and expand beyond the iris forming large voids where his eyes once were.

"Incredible, quick the opthalmoscope!" Doctor Monroe leaned in close to James to get a better look.

James began to feel his consciousness fade. He saw one of the nurses finally appear within his line of sight. At that moment he became painfully aware that he was no longer in control of his own body and was merely along for the ride. The bindings holding James' left arm burned away and he grasped the nurse's slender arm.

Her young face twisted with agony as she howled in pain, falling away from the bed and out of James' sight. Joy and pleasure filled James' heart but neither of the emotions were his own, they were foreign and unwelcome. "STOP! IT HURTS!" He cried out within himself, fighting whatever it was controlling him. The machine below him whistled and cracked, sending even more waves of pain through his body.

"TURN IT UP!" someone shouted from beneath him as the lights began to flicker and dim.

Another whistle came but James never heard the crack as the shock alone was enough to instantly send him into darkness once again    

 

 

The rhythmic sound of beeping slowly woke James from his nightmare. As he gradually regained consciousness, he realized that he couldn't move, he could only stare up at the tiled ceiling above him and listen to the rhythmic beeping.

I can free you

Dozens of wires and electrodes protruded from James' body and wrapped around the outside of the bed into the many machines spread along the wall behind him. With his head pinned to the bed, James could barely make out the silhouettes of the people shifting around him, each occupied with their tasks and machines.

"Hello?" James croaked.

A bespectacled face leaned in James' line of sight. He could barely make out the mans brown eyes from behind the reflection on his glasses. His hair winged with grey and was neatly slicked back and if there was any sign of emotion on his face, James struggled to find it.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey," The man said, his lips parted into a narrow smirk revealing only a sliver of his teeth.

"Who are you?" James asked, his voice dry and throat sore.

The man continued to stare down at James, his smile growing wider. "My name is Doctor Monroe, from here on out I will be taking care of you. Well, that is if your grandmother decides to retrieve you."

"My grandmother?" James had never known his grandparents on his father's side. He was told that they had passed away long before he was born of old age somewhere in Nebraska. He had never met his grandparents on his mother's side and his dad had never mentioned them.

"Interesting, don't you know your grandmother?" Doctor Monroe asked incredulously, as he clicked his pen and began to take notes.

"Why can't I move?" James said, ignoring the Doctor's question. Noting that the sound of writing paused for a moment.

"Yes, after your last outburst we had to take... measures. Seeing that you have a history of night terrors, I have determined this is the best solution for your safety as well as those around." Doctor Monroe stepped out of James' sight, leaving him to stare up at the brightly lit ceiling. "Due to the extenuating circumstances, surrounding your case, I have selected you to take part in specialized treatment for children like you."

"What do you mean children like me?" James asked, testing the bindings holding him to the bed. A hand gripped his arm painfully and Doctor Monroe reappeared above him.

"It would be best if you'd relax," He looked across the bed at one the others in the room. "Please dial it back point five percent."

"Minus five percent, done," A feminine voice responded quickly.

"What's going on? What are you doing to me?" Anxiety and panic began to overcome him as the once rhythmic beeping that had roused him from his slumber became increasingly erratic.

"As I already said Mister Grey, treatment. Now, I have a few baseline questions," Doctor Monroe clicked his pen once again. "First, is your name James Vincent Grey?"

James struggled frantically against his constraints. "Let me go! I want to go home!"

Ask me

A low whistling sound seemed to burst from beneath his bed and just as it reached it's highest pitch, it cracked and James felt a sharp pain pierce his neck and temples, causing every muscle in his face to contract tightly and his body to convulse. Unimaginable agony erupted into his brain causing small spots to fade in and out of his vision.

"Ah, be careful to answer calmly, James." Doctor Monroe said with a light chuckle.

"Why are you doing this to me?" James' eyes began to water.

"You may not understand this now, but what I'm doing is helping you. By the time I'm done with you, not even the end of the world will worry you. I am developing a method to deal with mental trauma." He said with a condescending tone, as if it were something far out of James' grasp. "Now, let us proceed, shall we? What was the relationship like with your father?" He asked.

James hesitated for a moment, his eyes darted around looking for anything or anyone that could possibly help him.

"Did you hear me, James?"

"It was fine, he took good care of me. He worked a lot, but he always made me breakfast," James stated, sweat beginning to form on his brow.

"I see. When we found you two nights ago, you were unconscious in your basement with several breaks to your right arm. How did you come to be in the basement, James?" Doctor Monroe's eyes narrowed as he waited for James' response.

James considered telling him everything. Telling him about the ghost that haunted him, the forest, the odd witch and her shop. He wasn't sure if he'd believe him, but then he remembered the pain from his last response. He wasn't sure if a lie would trigger another shock or whether or not the Doctor himself controlled when the shocks came.

Don't

After a long moment of silence, he decided to tell the doctor the truth. Half out of fear of being shocked again and half because he wanted someone to tell him it was just a dream. Because he needed someone to. He had no one else to share the story with, to experience it with and laugh about how absurd and nonsensical it truly was. So, he began at the beginning with the argument that morning and continued all the way until he was thrown back into the basement. As the story unfolded and James spoke, it wasn't humor or understanding that appeared on Doctor Monroe's face, it was curiosity.

"Incredible, his brain has already repressed the memory." Doctor Monroe whispered, scribbling furiously.

"What do you mean?" James wondered if the Doctor had even heard a word he had said.

"Had your father ever hit you before?" Doctor Monroe abruptly asked, ignoring James' question.

"What?" James snapped back. "No, he would never do that."

Doctor Monroe stopped writing and locked eyes with James. Even through the reflection on his glasses, James could see the skepticism. "James, I know this is difficult for you to accept but your father was abusing you, all evidence suggests it. You may not remember everything right now but..."

"No, he wasn't!" James interrupted, Feeling his blood beginning to boil. "I said, we had a fight and he went to work that's all!"

Doctor Monroe smirked sympathetically and shook his head. "No, my boy, that's just what your mind wants you to believe. Fantasy and magic are figments of your imagination, it's scientific fact."

"It's not! It really happened!" James yelled angrily and couldn't believe he was defending the memory he had hoped to disprove a moment before. "You don't know anything! My dad would never..." the whistle came again, followed by a sharp crack and of course... the pain.

"Again, I'm going to have to ask you to remain calm, James." Doctor Monroe said simply but James was anything but calm.

"LET ME GO! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" He shouted, furious. "DON'T LET HIM DO THIS TO ME! DO SOMETHING!" James cried out to the shadows surrounding him, hoping to find a hint of humanity in the room. But the only thing that came was the whistle and the crack.

Ask me

"HELP ME! PLEASE!" He cried and almost instantly a new pain erupted inside of him. It wasn't the shock of the machine beneath him, it was something else. Something that clawed at his insides and burned through every vein with frightening speed as if something were trying to escape the prison of his body. Unimaginable pain and torment dragged him into a new nightmare unlike any he had ever experienced.

The skeptical look vanished from Doctor Monroe's face and was replaced by surprised delight as James' skin began to fade to a deathly pale. His pupils began to dilate and expand beyond the iris forming large voids where his eyes once were.

"Incredible, quick the opthalmoscope!" Doctor Monroe leaned in close to James to get a better look.

James began to feel his consciousness fade. He saw one of the nurses finally appear within his line of sight. At that moment he became painfully aware that he was no longer in control of his own body and was merely along for the ride. The bindings holding James' left arm burned away and he grasped the nurse's slender arm.

Her young face twisted with agony as she howled in pain, falling away from the bed and out of James' sight. Joy and pleasure filled James' heart but neither of the emotions were his own, they were foreign and unwelcome. "STOP! IT HURTS!" He cried out within himself, fighting whatever it was controlling him. The machine below him whistled and cracked, sending even more waves of pain through his body.

"TURN IT UP!" someone shouted from beneath him as the lights began to flicker and dim.

Another whistle came but James never heard the crack as the shock alone was enough to instantly send him into darkness once again    

 
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