text: I was born with perfect hearing. A genetic mutation that allows me to listen in on the inner rhythm our bodies provide. Until the previous generation, no one had detected the music our bodies produced. The frequency is so strange and subtle, that specialized listening devices had to be made. Surprisingly enough, when people like me first started experiencing the music of others, we were not treated as mentally ill. There was no hate campaign or b.s. politics. The first of us were treated with respect and it allowed science to flourish. Once it was determined that we weren't physically suffering and obviously no threat to society, we continued on as if nothing was different. Some of us hated always hearing the music. For them, a cochlear-like implant blocked the soundwaves. Others, like me, really embraced the ability. We considered ourselves privileged. There was something about hearing the music from so many that made us feel connected to them. Like mycelium under the earth. Connected to each other in a way no one but us could understand. &#x200B; The music that humanity shares with us is mostly pleasant. It could be described as the definition of your personality. The music inside you is the truest form of self. Happy, healthy and whole typically provides an upbeat soundtrack to the world around me. Lots of music in C and G major, accompanied by A and E minor. Unfortunately there are lots of people who are born with disability, mental illness, or general malaise as well. In the key of D minor, their music is so sad, often reflecting on their quality of life. It's easy to tell the nature of a person when they don't know I'm listening. I know its kind of tasteless to always be eavesdropping, but my hearing is a natural function that I will not hinder. In the 2 generations since we first heard the music, there have been all kinds. All the music of the world, on display for all abled beings to hear, all the time. I enjoy being in public. The music never gets old, its always new and different. I spend time in malls, grocery stores, parks and carnivals. I enjoy walking downtown, where the hustle and bustle provides an amazing jam session. People watching takes on a whole new meaning when you're vibing to their music. I somehow feel my connection to them is more personal. Since we began keeping track, the music has generally been the same. The newborn and pre-dead produced psychedelic sounds, often convoluted, a cacophony of warped emotion. That was all anyone ever heard. Until the low, foreboding tones of G minor came creeping into my world. &#x200B; It came on softly at first. A low rhythm over a static hum, seemingly blanketing the earth around me like rolling fog. I had never felt this before, never heard this before. It was filled with agony. It was rhythmic, rife with anger. A tone that suggested vile and violent intent. I could feel myself fill with dread, the baby fine hairs on my neck standing at attention. The cold trickle of fear on my spine. This music was unlike any other. It swelled and dropped. It ran through various chord progressions. It had become a hardened, driven beat, louder, angrier and vengeful. The sounds hit my hears like the speech of a brutal dictator. Fear seemed like the driving force behind this music. What was this? No one sounded like this. I wondered who else, if anyone, may have heard it. I wondered if anyone was as intrigued. &#x200B; I went looking for disaster. I followed the music. This march of sorts. It was frightening and captivating. Every drum beat, every guitar chord, every bass string plucked drew me closer and closer. My brain was becoming very anxious, while my very soul was being drawn toward this powerful new sound. I searched, following the symphony of probable demise. It brought me to an abandoned prison. Dilapidated and weathered, the prison still stood. From outside the entrance, I could hear the tortured chords of hundreds of people in the halls and cells over the driving beat of this mysterious new menace. Filled with trepidation, I ventured forth into the prison. I had to find the source. It drew me closer. I walk into an empty hallway, lit only by the light from the outside, pouring in through holes in the roof. The screams went silent but the hurt increased in volume. It was uncomfortable and I hated it, but I shouldered the weight. In the distance, a red door, the only red door, was pulling me, magnetized and mesmerized. I stood, silent, scared. In that moment I took stock of my feelings, my emotions. I was of two minds, but a singular body. I hated where I was but only ever wanted to be right there, exactly then. I opened the door. &#x200B; What I assumed to be a child stood before me. Androgynous and slight. Hairless, pale skin that appeared blue. Blue in the way that a cadaver is blue. The child hovered over the floor, its legs crossed in the way school children's are at story time. The child's eyes looked closed, yet open. Eyelids translucent over black eyes. It's lips were stretched tight across its mouth, the corners forced ever so slightly into a disgusted frown. The child seemed fraught, like it was disappointed in whatever was in its mind. I was compelled to speak but barely made a peep. The child's eyes shot open and all music stopped. *All* music had stopped. The silence was deafening. Staring through me, into my soul, I could feel its presence enter into my consciousness. It was then that I understood: the child wasn't a child. This being was the literal embodiment of hate. It spread itself, like a virus, covering everything in it's path with disgust, hate, anger, rage. Homicide, suicide, and genocide was the goal and this being was damned and determined to spread. The music resumed. It spoke to me. Not in words that any human could comprehend, but in a way that imparted all of its knowledge on me. I was the Eve to its Serpent like the folklore tales of old. I felt the change consume me. I hadn't been in pursuit of good or morality or love, so the hatred plunged into me like a dry syringe into the vein. The Hate imparted on me all the things it was, and left none of me. I was eradicated. I became the fear from which we run. I had become the destroyer of senses. I had become terror. I am Wrath. I am Jealousy. They will all feel me. They will all hear my death march. Humans and mutants alike will feel the chorus of a millions souls. It will be their prison. I will be exalted. No one had any idea what I'd become. I am Sin. I am despair. I am become death. I am death. They will acknowledge me. I am. &#x200B; Edited to add: this is my first time writing. I initially posted this story originally on r/WritingPrompts I changed a couple things that I thought made the flow better. Please critique and criticize. Thank you for your time.