For Ronnie James Dio: Death is but a Beginning
Posted by Apocalypse, 19 May 2010 · 0 views
Dedicated to Dio
There are no words. There is only metal.
The traveler came to their city at dusk, and he walked the streets at night, humming under his breath. Curiosity swelled in those that saw him, the man in leather with his wild hair who seemed to look not at the darkness, but into it.
He drew a crowd when the sun came, and they walked behind him, shirking their jobs and duties. The braver citizens asked him questions, and the people came to know of this strange man. He was born in a faraway land, under the sign of metal.
"Metal? Which metal?" they asked.
"If you must ask, then you cannot understand," he responded sagely.
"Why have you come to our city?" they asked.
He said nothing.
When he came across a blind musician, leaning against the wall of a building and playing a guitar, they conversed in a hushed tone that the crowd could not hear.
"There is beauty in my music, but no passion. I wish to swell the heart with pride, or to fill a man with a euphoric bliss, or bestow courage where there is none," said the blind man.
"Then come with me," the traveler said.
They left the city, and the blind man was led to the mountaintops. He trusted the traveler, and they left behind the city-dwellers and ventured to the highest peaks. Finally, the traveler allowed the blind man to sit, and he took his guitar, and raised it to the heavens. Dark clouds were forming.
"I am your son!" cried the traveler to the sky. "I am the child of metal!"
Lightning arced, and thunder roared, and the traveler took the thunder and entwined its spirit to the guitar. He returned it to the blind man.
"Play," he said simply.
The musician played; the guitar screeched and sang, emitting a noise few mortals had ever heard. It was as if the voice of god rang through the strings, and the traveler's voice wailed, rising to match the guitar's pitch. The blind man and the traveler made music of such power and intensity that the earth shook, and the city heard them. It filled them all with both fear and awe, and the sharpest of eyes could discern two figures standing atop the mountain as lightning crackled all around its crags.
The final note died, and the blind man looked to the traveler with his blank eyes. He was weeping.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"In my land, they called me Dio."
The two returned to the city, and a throng of people met them.
"What was that noise?" they asked. "Was it some monster?"
"That noise was metal!" Dio cried, and the crowd prostrated themselves as he thrust the ancient holy symbol into the air, index and pinky finger extended to mimic horns.
Dio stayed in the city to teach them of metal. He created new and powerful instruments for their musicians, and he himself sang with such soul-rending ferocity that he drove the people into a frenzy.
But one day, he became ill. Mourners crowded his deathbed, and he took the hand of the blind guitarist.
"Do not let metal die," he said, and was still. The city grieved.
In the distant lands of death, Dio walked the desert. The surreality pressed in upon him, threatening to suffocate his mind and soul, but Dio resisted. The fire in his heart staved off whatever ancient and powerful force wished to consume him. He knew that if it overtook him, he would be lost forever, but he walked and he furrowed his brow with grim determination.
Soon he came to a great gate, set into a mountain. He yelled to the gate with a voice that split the silence like a sword.
"Dio has come!" he cried, and then let loose a roar so cacophonous and yet so musical that it was beautiful, and the gates cracked and threatened to collapse in upon themselves.
Some eternal guardian looked down upon him from the peak of the gates, where a battlement was formed. The guardian, a colossal demon, slithered down the wall with lizard limbs and appeared before Dio. The demon was three times Dio's size, but the man stood his ground.
"Who is this Dio that thinks himself so presumptuous that he may summon me at will?" it asked.
"I am the Dio that slew dragons with naught but my voice, the Dio that forged mystical weapons from my rock!"
"From stone?" asked the demon.
"No! From metal!" roared Dio, and upon the final word of that sentence his voice rung out so pure that it became as a beam of fire, and it cut the demon in two and shattered the gates. The guardian sputtered and Dio placed a foot across its neck.
"What awaits me in the lands of death?" he asked.
"Nothing but suffering and torment!" laughed the demon. "Gods so ancient and powerful that they existed before the universe! Not even you may challenge them, Dio!"
Dio twisted his heel, the sickening snap of bone his reward, and the demon fell silent.
"Few understand metal until they experience its undistilled glory for themselves," said Dio. "And even those immortal beings will fear the name of Dio, for I shall smite the heavens and cast the gods themselves from the sky!"
And so Dio passed into the lands of death, and no mortal ever laid eyes upon him again.