A billion downloads, and none could agree on what the monotonous earworm was. Was the thin whine a capella, or a throaty flute? Its origin and composer were unknown.
My wife began to hum the tune endlessly. In days she transitioned to catatonic illness along with millions of others similarly obsessed.
But the hum never ceased as her limbs and brain atrophied. It continued through weeks of mutation. When all that remained of her was a mindless polyp and fluted proboscis, it became a perfect, droning rendition.
We had to stop the music.
We had to stop it with fire.
Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.