As the last few chords were strummed, he slowly opened his eyes, just in time to see another person holding paper being lead into the back of the bar. He sat there wondering what the deal was. Only one thought bulldozed it's way to the for front of his mind. Where the fuck did they find paper? Man...If only he were so lucky. He came too from his trance as he looked out into the crowd, hearing them cheer and clap. He stood to his feet and bowed, waving to the crowd."Thank you all, Your so very kind!!!"<br/><br/>A gentleman from the back of the room called out, the only one who seemed unimpressed."I call bullshit against you, Dreamer. Your nothing more than a two-bit, One string Never will be. You honestly think that anyone is impressed by you? We all know your playing from a track." He stood to his feet, flipping the table in front of him."Can't you see everyone, He's a fake. The entire time he was up there, his eyes were closed, and he still played perfectly." Murad looked out into the crowd, seeing as the smiles dwindled, him taking a step back as some started to agree.<br/><br/>"You know what, He's right. I have never seen anyone play that good. And I can almost swear I have heard that song somewhere before. Why don't you give us a demonstration of how good you are. Unplug yourself, and play free hand. Play something...." The man who spoke now seemed to be trying to help murad, his tone wasn't angry or daring. It was almost as if this guy wanted murad to be as good as he was. As the crowd began to chant, dreamer looked out and smiled. They wanted acoustic playing now. He slowly lifted his hand to the crowd, trying to calm them down."Alright, Alright... I'll play something unplugged. I promise you, There are no tricks at my show..."<br/><br/>His voice was still filled with joy as he heard another voice.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #404080">...Yes Murad, Play for them......Make them believe in your power... Play the lute...</span></span></span>Just as he was ready to pull out the amp cord, he froze. He looked as if someone had stabbed him. He slowly turned to look out over the crowd, no one said a word. He kept looking for the origin of the voice, but found nothing. His eyes remained wide as he slowly sat back down, unplugging his guitar."Ok...I'll play... something..." He said softly, his fingers shaking as he looked out into the crowd. As he began to strum, he looked out into the crowd. The music that played in his mind drowned out the sound of the room. No one heard anything but his strumming this time.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #404080">Yes...Play for them....play for me.... turn the darkness within them into truth...</span></span></span>"<br/><br/>As the voice sounded again, he missed his first note, him sweating furiously. He shook wildly as he looked out into the crowd. As he began to miss more and more notes, from his fear, he could see the faces of the crowd contorting, twisting in the most grotesque way. As he continued to play, he quickly lowered his head and shut his eyes. Once his eyes were shut and he focused on the music in his mind, the sounds of other instruments began to play with him as before. He played his song perfectly, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle crashing onto the ground next to him. The sound of broken glasses ripped him from his trance, his strumming stopping as he looked up.<br/><br/>"You see, What did I tell you people. He is nothing but a fake. He couldn't play without a track behind him. He isn't Dreamer Strings. He's nothing but a sad excuse for a musician. I want my money back!!!"<br/><br/>Murad watched in terror as the man stood and began to yell at him. What he saw and heard was pure evil in his eyes. As he looked over the crowd, everyone's faces did the same. They grew long, void of emotion, eyes black and empty.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #404080">Play the lute.....Purge this place of it's darkness, Force the evil into the light. Destroy them....Slaughter the sheep....Erase their souls....</span></span></span>"<br/><br/>Murad was driven to his limit as the voice continued to drive him mad. All he saw was evil. Everyone in this tavern was ready to kill him. He fell back onto the ground and began to crab walk back against the wall, Closing his eyes as the screams grew louder. Within his mind, all he heard was the screams tortured souls of hell. "I want my money back, You're a fake, You will never make it to greatness, YOU'RE NOTHING!!!"<br/><br/>Murad continued to coware against the back wall, eyes shut, ears covered. He shook as though he was left in the snow for months with no clothes.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #404080">Purge this Room...Kill the Fodder.....Kill!!!!</span></span></span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #404080">KILL!!!!</span></span></span>"<br/><br/>Just as the crowd began to become a mob, murad looked up, seeing them draw closer to him, his fear peaking as he slowly made his way toward the guitar stand that had his lute. He never played it, but never left it alone either. He never knew why, but he felt like death would claim his soul if he didn't keep it with him. He slowly grabbed the neck of the lute and pulled it to him, hugging it to his chest.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #404080">Play it....KILL THEM...KILL THEM ALL!!!!</span></span></span>"