Church 1 “The New Organist”
In late February of 1945, the organist of The Valentinus Church of God passed away. He had served for nearly fifty years before his passing, and it was in all respects a major blow to the community. The funeral was one of the largest ever to take place on Wellington Street, and attracted people from not only the community but the surrounding area as well. He was remembered as a great man, and it was not surprising to anyone when it was requested by the church that he be buried on the grounds. The family readily agreed, and thus he was interred under the marble tiles that make up the floor of the church. To this day, parishioners place flowers on his grave on the anniversary of his death.
It is a simple building, owing much to its age and the moderate wealth of the people in the community. However, the building is well managed, mostly due to the consistent contributions over the years by the wealthier parishioners. The marble floors were installed in the early 1920's, replacing the simple hardwood floors. The glass windows were replaced with more stirring scenes in stained glass. Much of the church has been updated and refurbished, a strange behavior when one considers the efforts of many to keep many of the homes and buildings as they were long ago. However, people of the community insist that this is a sign of affection, partially fueled up to that point by the deep love the community had for the church organist.
It wasn't until a week later that the minister was able to find a replacement. Up until that point it had been the minister’s wife who had been playing the organ at services. She was talented, but it was clear to many that she just wasn't the same. Because of this, when it was announced that they had found a new one it was not surprising that people were more than skeptical.
The replacement was a young boy, only sixteen at the time. He looked younger than his age would suggest, his light blonde hair, blue eyes, and light hue of skin making him look sickly much of the time. He was a soft spoken boy, and really did not speak much to anyone up until the day of his first service. He was also from out of town, and although he came highly recommended it was feared that he would not be able to fill the substantial shoes of the well respected and well-loved former organist.
The fears were soon dismissed by the time the mass had reached its end. The service was a rousing success, and after a week or so the congregation managed to adjust to their newest member, and although people deeply missed the old one, many felt that they could feel confident that things would return too normal.
At least at first.
Some weeks later, people began to claim to be hearing strange noises in the night. It was dismissed at first, but soon it became clear that the sounds were coming from the church. The sounds were that of the organ, only the tones that were being played were not those normally used for church music. For the first time in a long time the lower resister of the scale was used, and the results were frightening. People began to lose sleep, waking suddenly in the middle of the night with a deep compulsion to walk. Those who stayed asleep claimed that their sleep was plagued by cold sweats, and would awaken feeling as if they hadn't slept at all.
It was assumed that someone had broken into the church and was messing around with the organ, and so the locks were replaced and the rest of the building checked for security. For a short while the noise stopped, and people rested easy. However, a week later the noise continued, and it did not take long for the complaints to turn into action.
Late one night, on the fourth day since the return of the music, a group of exhausted and overwhelmed citizens went with the local police to the church. They were surprised to find the church was unlocked, with no sign of forced entry. After securing the crowd outside, the police entered the building, making their way quickly to the place where the organ stood.
There they found the young boy, seated at his normal place. Scattered across the floor were musical sheets, the boy in the normal black suite he wore for service. His performance was manic, the playing of the keys rapid and disjointed. As the police approached, they noticed a strange odor in the air unlike anything they had ever experienced before or since. Several officers feel ill, but a select few managed to continue forward.
When they tried to speak to the boy he did not respond. It was not until two of the officers were right next to him that he stopped playing. Only then did the officers noticed his hands. They were broken and bloody, and it was clear the boy was no longer playing the music, but was instead slapping his fingers against the keys.
No sign of reference for the music he was playing was found, the pages on the ground being a standard piece he had played many times during regular services.
The boy was taken into custody and was sent to the local hospital before being sent to an asylum out of state for treatment. Reports of the boy end there, and it is assumed that he is another one of those people who became lost in the growing pool of mental health patients that blossomed at the end of the second world war. At the time, he was simply assumed to simply be severely depressed, a catch all term that was used on many at the time. Today his behavior would more fall along the lines of OCD or the like, though too little evidence exists about his personal life for a proper diagnosis to be made.
As for the church, they still hold regular services. However, it was not until three years later that they accepted a new organist. In the meantime, they relied instead on a record player, finally accepting the services of a new organist only after the record player broke down.
