The man’s music started off slow and somber, as though he were playing a funeral tune. The notes were long and drawn out, imposing, sending shivers down the high-class audience’s spines. The man, sitting before his grand piano, wore a look of intense concentration on his face, pouring all his energy into playing the haunting melody.

He quickly broke off into a string of lighter notes, a prelude into something more exuberant and merry. This short piece broke the previous solemnity of the hour, and audience members sat back in their mahogany leather chairs, feeling comfortable and relaxed. The man’s fingers, long and light, danced skillfully across the black and white piano keys. The sweet-sounding prelude was not to last, however, and it quickly gave way to a crescendo of loud, raucous music that filled the room as though someone had released a flood of all the notes ever played on the piano.

The music grew louder, deafening now, and the man’s eyes glinted brightly with pure joy. His expression receded from one of intense concentration to one of calmness. The man broke off suddenly for a few seconds and silence engulfed the room before he started again, expelling music from the piano in a series of short, urgent bursts. He dwindled off from this to play a short haunting tune, which segued into the same low, solemn melody he began the piece with. The man let the music float off into the air, resonating serenely around the room before it, too, slowly dwindled away.

The man stood up and faced the audience. He bowed formally as they clapped and cheered and bellowed out their appreciation for his music. The man stood tall and dignified, resplendent in the audience’s glory. A small smile stole over his face before disappearing a moment later. The man raised his arm to signify his wish to speak, and the grand applause slowly died down. The smile on the man’s face returned, wide and inviting. His eyes, however, remained sharp and cold, with none of the warmth or splendor of his smile. The man raised both his arms out wide.

“Hello, my treacherous friends!” he called. “I’m so glad you could gather here tonight, with peace in your minds and happiness in your hearts, to meet your demise.”

And with a flick of his wrist the room was engulfed in darkness, the burning torches instantly snuffed by the man’s will. He walked across the polished wood floor of the stage and down the black velvet steps, flicking imaginary dust from the cuffs of his suit. The man’s bone-white skin glowed eerily in the darkness. As he walked down the aisles, he heard with startling clarity shrieks and screams, some human, some not. He heard pleading and wailing and the delicious sound of blood being spilled from innocent throats. He heard the low, bloodthirsty growl of demons, but they would not dare to attack their lord and master. In the pitch-dark of the theater the man could see a few of them bow their heads in fearful submission, as they brutally ripped apart the remains of human bodies.

The man paused at the ornate mahogany doors, relishing in the terrible sounds echoing behind him. He turned his head and whispered, menace lacing his voice, “Welcome to the dance of the dead.”