The Music of Erich Zann
A man once took a room on the fifth floor of a building on a street named Rue d’Auseil. It was a strange street. The street was paved with multiple types of materials and the street was steep. All the houses seemed to be strangely shaped. The house the man lived in was the tallest of the houses.
In the garret lived a man who couldn’t speak. His name was Erich Zann. He played the violin for a local institution and played it still at home. He had a window that looked out over the city vista. He invited the man up one evening to listen to some of his original violin music. The music was strange and unlike anything that the man had ever heard before. When the man tried to look out of the window at the city, Erich rushed the man out of the room.
The man was not invited back for some time and even moved to a different room on the third floor. As time passed, the violin music seemed to get stranger and stranger, desperate.
The man was ultimately invited back to Erich’s room. He wrote down an entire story about how things came to be the way they were, but something terrible happened. There was some unseen force outside the window. There was another note coming from afar. The man ultimately looked out of the window, instead of seeing the city, he saw a black void. There was something strange and scary out there, something that Erich kept at bay with his music. The man ran out of the house and never went back. In fact, he could not even find the street again, nor find anyone who had heard of it.
A strange street that isn’t there, quite interesting.
Did this street really exist? Was there really a Rue d’Auseil? I would hazard that there was not, or at least not in this dimension. H.P. has already tangled with the idea of different dimensions, why not have a place that belongs to a different plane, but maybe you stumbled upon it by accident, like Diagon Alley. It’s inconceivable to us that such things could exist. If something is there, it’s there; if it’s not there, it’s not there. That’s our observation of the world. A store can’t be there one minute and disappear the next, only to reappear again. Things take up space, at least in how we understand things. If you can’t find something, then it’s not taking up space, therefore it doesn’t exist, but there’s probably a lot we don’t understand about the world.
This story is pure fantasy, but who knows, maybe something like this has happened somewhere in time.
What was out there?
Would you doubt yourself if you stumbled on a place that seemed to disappear later?
What do you think Erich Zann was battling on the violin?