Songful Sedition

By Nyhl Kreeg

The song of life is an epic composition rising and falling with the cadence of emotions. From ecstatic heights to wretched lows the melody undulates across a symphony of fleeting possibilities. All too easily we are carried away by the rhythm of temper and complacency, making us deaf to the prosaic plea of reason. Soon, we can no longer hear the voice from the mirror, and succumb to an immutable crescendo.

 

When an inexplicable decay swept over a secluded village it slowly erodes the livelihood of the local farmers. Though hope for the soil to recover dwindled year after year, Kristian Karlstead refused to abandon his home, and together with the few remaining folk decided to open their doors to venturesome visitors seeking the thrill of what had now become a ghost town. Their first guest arrived not long after, but unbeknownst to the desperate villagers, it would also be their last.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nyhl Kreeg
• Release date: Feb 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215846834

Nyhl Kreeg

Raised in the valleys and vineyards winding through the German forests past castles and ecclesiastical edifices, my fascination with the horrors hiding in the dark and within the human soul took root from the cradle. At the age of six I wrote my first short story, and I continued to express my inchoate passion for the horror genre throughout school. Once I had discovered the works brought forth by the romantic movement and the Victorian era, my love for English literature became manifest. Some years later, when I had been holding the abyss’s gaze for too long, I was confronted with the metaphysics of philosophy, which influenced my perspective of true horror and encouraged me to put my phantasms into words.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The village lay quiet in the shadows of the mountains to the east, still sleeping while the first rays of sunlight spilled over the peaks. Even the river snaking past the few houses comprising what was left of our quiescent hamlet seemed to flow slower in the morning, afraid to disrupt the peaceful stillness.

A bird fluttered from a distance over the moss covered roofs, then landed on my windowsill, pecking against the glass to say good morning. I grabbed some seed and let the little guy eat from my hand. He chirped twice in gratitude and flew away, certain to return in a few days when his fruitless search for food would bring him back to my open palm.

As I watched him disappear against the rising sun, I mused upon the idyllic tranquility of the countryside — the boundless repose it had granted my restive mind — but I also had to admit the inherent difficulties of isolation. Just like the bird struggled to live off this unfertile ground, so did the few people who decided to stay behind after our crops had started to die.

Three years later, hope for the soil to recover from the inexplicable blight had perished along all but the most resilient plants; and yet we refused to leave. For us, this was the only home we ever knew. We won’t abandon it, no matter how dire the times.

Unfortunately, the municipality from the closest city responsible for our jurisdiction didn’t share our values, and offered us to relocate on many occasions. We declined, of course, not considering the consequence that would ultimately follow. When their patience ran out at last, so did our funds, as they cut all financial support.

Disrepair slowly crept onto public buildings and condemned houses, soon giving us the public status of a ghost town. It was heartbreaking, but we simply