The tones touched his ears, like a curved cat spine sliding against bare legs, and eardrums sent them, via quirky channels down to the heart, and surrounded it with magic circles that did not follow the known patterns like rings in water.
However, the description of the moving tones should not stand alone as there was more to it. Something he had not expected. The cat stood up on the hind legs and performed moonwalk in a Michael Jackson similar manner. The dog drummed his forepaws on the cookie jar that contained vanilla wreaths, and the television turned itself on.
“So ghosts exist,” he thought. “When special circumstances are present.” He showed a strange look on his face, and although he enjoyed fiddle, he did not understand why it put such a thing in progress. “Were it the tones alone? Was the violin magic? Or was it the violinist that triggered these events?”
He decided to check the cookie jar, which was the most tangible when the music ended, for if the vanilla wreaths were reduced to the size of peanuts, there had been ghosts in the game. They would have eaten the vanilla wreath holes after which the rings had to accumulate if they would avoid ending up as sweet breadcrumbs. “But anyway, I will concentrate on enjoying the touching tones again. Then we all fill time with what we think it should be filled with for now."
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