5 minutes 15 seconds| When the second theme and its counter melody return at the end as paired pianos, they climb into oblivion together and abandon the listener there.
A well known, copyright-free Apple loop is heard near the end of Suicide Forest, and plays under a mournful French horn. This melodic fragment provided the backbone for the counter melody of the second theme, although it could not be made to work with the theme note for note. Factually, it was because I liked the loop so much that I wrote the French horn solo in order to preserve it.
Aokigahara Forest is a place of interest of mine, and I include a purely fictional anecdote about it in the novel I am writing, in which one man relates the ironic tale of a pilgrim to another man.
Time stamp for creation: 4/14/12.
Novel-in-Progress, excerpt 3| Later in the introduction, a bridegroom looks to escape his fate when he strays into the back of a chapel:
A curtain in a corresponding alcove moved in his peripheral vision, and swung like a detached retina in lockstep with each sweep of his head. He flittered in a doorway in hope of flinging the ghosts into the open, and succeeded with one.
The size of the retreating bear was hard to gauge through the glass, and required the pursuer to slip into an unlit adjacent kitchen for a better view. There he found only a screen door shielding the back of the property. The same breeze seen in the window also pushed through the wire mesh, and emboldened the scent of a white sheet cake cooling on a table. Lowell pushed the yielding door, where only one of its three hinges remained attached to a frame. Neglect (and perhaps not the furry marauder) explained the disrepair.
A second look at the cake forced him to reconsider his assumption, as a slice of it was missing. It was cut most carefully, without a crumb to light on either the cake tray or tablecloth. The knife used for the removal was also clean, with no smudge of icing on the blade.
No bear, he reasoned, would be so punctilious in its opportunism.
The sleuth was backing away from the curious scene when he noticed that the side of the table opposite the dessert was minus a leg. Immediately he understood the situation: The three-tier wedding cake was being used as a counterbalance—and how many slices could be removed before the table toppled?
This, as it turns out, was one of many discomfiting details in the dim kitchen, which presented a child’s puzzle book of challenges in listing strategically placed incongruities: One of the wall mounts for a paper towel dispenser was missing, leaving the paper roll sitting upright on a counter. The toaster oven next to it had no handle on its glass door. (A pair of locking pliers now served this capacity.) Three of four cabinets under the counter were unburdened of their doors, and this predicament was shared with the dishwasher.
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