4 minutes 14 seconds| How the two parts of this composition came together is a mystery. It may have started as a marriage of convenience, but a strange synergy, beginning in dreaminess and ending with a clumsy trombone, holds fast.
The accordion is a free software instrument I picked up around this time, as it is used here and in the previous work Rapprochement. It has novelty, yet produces one of those temperamental midrange timbres where upper end frequencies scrape away the vital membrane of your eardrums. In Rapprochement, heavy reverb and a phaser alter its unpleasantness by squeezing its waveform in the way one moves toothpaste unproductively from one end of the tube to the other. I may have used the accordion since, but I would be hard pressed to find it.
The time stamp for the second half of Garden sounds correct: 5/19/11. The start date for the first half is in dispute. It may have been composed before the second half or, more likely, the second half was forged from the first half’s template. The date for “last modified” is firm: 3/10/13. It is also possible that woodwinds were added later to flesh out the low treble synth, which is the same fix used in Agnus Dei.
Novel-in-Progress, excerpt 11| Lured into a secret corridor by the mysterious figure, Lucien questions his bravery in exploring it:
In his uncommitted retreat, the test subject pushed again on the curtain in search of its meaning and bumped into a blocky object shrouded on a pedestal. It was waist-high with a jutting edge, and pulling the drapery aside confirmed the presence of a large dollhouse beneath.
The miniature rooms were modestly furnished inside, but no dolls were seen to occupy them. The seeker inserted a finger through one of the dim panes-less windows and felt all the furniture pieces glued in place. Something in their arrangement unnerved him, and this was reinforced when, backing away, a bloody palm print was found on the side of the house’s white exterior.
As this was not an injury connected to him, he puzzled over it and took its presence as directions. Inspired (possessed), he gave the display a good shove: a loose hard object was heard to rock around inside.
Lucien could not say why this development alarmed him, but he looked again into one of the corner bedrooms, which contained a cracked closet door. Factually, it was the only door in the model neither fully opened nor fully closed. A dark figure stood just inside its gap, glistening like mucilage, but clearly fixed.
Another push was made—the knocking did not did originate from this part of the structure.
Whoever fabricated this dollhouse took pains in executing every detail to scale, and yet this half-hidden presence was oddly crude and deliberately vague. The loose object, too, did not fit with the fastidious nature of the presentation.
Lucien was already tracking back through the curtain to the door. On recovering the seers’ room, and then the hallway, shoes were heard bounding his way from the barred exit around the corner.
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