Sunday, December 7, 2014. 12:15 a.m.

Do you know what the best part about listening to songs is? It takes you back to a
moment of time that is ever so deeply imprinted in your memory. Sometimes, you try going back
to that point of time in your mind, but fail because you can never cross that bridge that joins the
present to the past. You start walking on this bridge but all of a sudden it collapses, and you
return to the present, desperately trying to recall that time when you first touched your
girlfriends hand or scored the winning goal in the soccer tournament final. Sometimes recalling
the past seems as if you can see the past standing right in front of you, but you are unable to
stretch your hand out enough to grab it because you are tied to a wall by a chain. Then you listen
to a certain song, and suddenly, as if the chain never existed at all, or the spell put on you was
broken, you see the past unfold- the bits and pieces you thought you would never recall. Every
time you hear that song play your heart goes back to that very point of time. This is music at its
best, touching your heart, moving your soul, and flooding your eyes.

In the middle of a vast expanse of arid land sat the small house that belonged to Mr.
Verlock. Bruised by sixty seven years of unforgiving nature, the house lost all of its grandeur
that it once had. The bright red color of the bricks gave way to muddy green, and the tall, ornate
windows that once gleaned in the sun lost their glamour. The roof was the most unfortunate
victim. Thin cracks ran through its entirety, and when it rained, allowed water to seep in, and
form a small pool in the attic.

Mr. Verlock, however, did not seem in the least concerned about the dilapidated state of
his house. A retired army officer in his eighties, he had served his country in the war twice, and
had lost one of his arms. He always had a grim view of life, and the second war did not help him
as he lost his only son during the last days of the war. People seldom visited him for the only
form of hospitality he offered was a slight nod of his head, and a half smile. He was a depressed
man.