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The Castle In The Wind

by Chainmail

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Black Wind 07:44

about

The symphony always begins with the cold wind blowing between her merlons. The unique shape of her crenels gives the whistling and the howling a texture not found in any other structure, the melody of her architecture alone is something to behold. Over the years I've placed wind chimes and bells and whistles and horns and aeolean harps across her narrow windowsills so that when the wind deems it time to play it may unleash a cacophony of sounds upon my fortress. Above her gated entrance a chapel hangs, adorned with the mightiest instrument this land has known, an organ counting thousands of pipes. This, her most majestic organ, is capable of a wide range of timbre and in my youth, I would construct impressive sonatas just with this piece alone. Now I am more careful to know my place in her grand orchestra, and only to support the siren song of the great castle, now more of a listener then a musician. In fact I have begun to spend the windless seasons away, visiting the sweet nymphs of Calcedonia, enjoying the sun and their youthful voices, yet never not longing for the few days of November when the storms roll down the mountains and hit her walls just right. A glorious percussion that ends the overture of autumn and leads the first movement of winter, always the favourite. Sadly we don't get many visitors anymore, not since the countess of Lanford went mad during her stay here twelve years ago. Even the shepherds have begun drawing ever wider circles around us. In a way I understand not wanting to have your ears plugged with wax every hour of every day, or that the pelts and coats get heavy after some time, oh but it is such a small entrance fee for a concert that lasts months and never becomes dull.
There are dungeons deep beneath her bowels even I have yet to explore, where the symphony reverberates differently in each room. I will let you in on a secret; there are auditory remnants of bygone inhabitants still echoing through her deepest tunnels, as if to say that their ghosts are singing down here. It is imperative to keep quiet here, in order not to disturb the preservation of their voices out of respect, as neither I want some oaf to yell and hush away my last song after I'm gone. In fact it may be better if one comes here anymore. I may close her gates permanently and spread rumors of curses to keep the music going, although the question does arise: If nobody hears her, does she sing?

credits

released November 5, 2020

Music by Zooey Klamma
Artwork by Sarita Ford

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all rights reserved

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Chainmail Aachen, Germany

Chainmail is a dungeon synth project by Zooey Klamma from Aachen, Germany.

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