Three Hearts

Blood plinks off the music stand as three hearts, still beating are deposited on its lip. Three hearts, three people, and countless audience members. The melody crashes to a crescendo, the bass roaring a sub-aural thrum that echoes in the deepest parts of the human subconscious. People cry for no discernible reason, not seeing the red splashed across the stage, no telling whose blood is whose when it's only the pulse that matters. Everyone can feel it, like fire shooting through their veins, burning, demanding, feeding an ancient hunger. Three hearts, three bloods, countless audience members - music.

Then silence.

Applause.