WHAT COMES IN THE MAIL
1x - Score
1x - Trombone part
1x - Digital download code (1x use)
It’s too late. The Witching Hour (2025) has arrived.
As midnight approaches, time begins to misbehave. The clock no longer measures hours - it summons them. Each chime fractures the stillness, and with every toll the boundary between worlds thins further. What was once sealed by silence now leaks through sound.
At the first markings of the hour (15, 30, 45) the bells stir restless forces. Shadows stretch unnaturally long, chaotically dancing footsteps echo where no bodies walk, and unseen figures begin their uneasy procession. These are not sudden intrusions, but patient arrivals, guided by ancient numerological order rather than chaos. The numbers repeat, insist, and spiral, forming a ritual framework through which the supernatural moves freely.
As the clock reaches its apex, the bells ring with authority. This is the Witching Hour: the moment when restraint dissolves entirely. Spirits dance, mock, and celebrate their brief dominion over the physical world. The music oscillates between menace and allure, reflecting the paradox of this hour: fear intertwined with fascination, danger wrapped in elegance. Yet this realm is fleeting. With the final chimes, the energy begins to unravel. The figures retreat, laughter dissolves into whispers, and the veil slowly reseals. Dawn has not yet arrived, but order quietly reasserts itself. The bells toll louder, leaving behind booming echoes as our world the one beyond close with one last scream.
The work follows one rule: “use serial numbers: 0, 1, 3, and 5.” After a long break from composing, I knew I needed some guidelines or restrictions when it came to learning how to write again. Having this one rule helped me get out of so many writer’s block moments. It is now my #1 go-to fallback for any piece I’ve written from 2023 to now.
WHAT COMES IN THE MAIL
1x - Score
1x - Trombone part
1x - Digital download code (1x use)
It’s too late. The Witching Hour (2025) has arrived.
As midnight approaches, time begins to misbehave. The clock no longer measures hours - it summons them. Each chime fractures the stillness, and with every toll the boundary between worlds thins further. What was once sealed by silence now leaks through sound.
At the first markings of the hour (15, 30, 45) the bells stir restless forces. Shadows stretch unnaturally long, chaotically dancing footsteps echo where no bodies walk, and unseen figures begin their uneasy procession. These are not sudden intrusions, but patient arrivals, guided by ancient numerological order rather than chaos. The numbers repeat, insist, and spiral, forming a ritual framework through which the supernatural moves freely.
As the clock reaches its apex, the bells ring with authority. This is the Witching Hour: the moment when restraint dissolves entirely. Spirits dance, mock, and celebrate their brief dominion over the physical world. The music oscillates between menace and allure, reflecting the paradox of this hour: fear intertwined with fascination, danger wrapped in elegance. Yet this realm is fleeting. With the final chimes, the energy begins to unravel. The figures retreat, laughter dissolves into whispers, and the veil slowly reseals. Dawn has not yet arrived, but order quietly reasserts itself. The bells toll louder, leaving behind booming echoes as our world the one beyond close with one last scream.
The work follows one rule: “use serial numbers: 0, 1, 3, and 5.” After a long break from composing, I knew I needed some guidelines or restrictions when it came to learning how to write again. Having this one rule helped me get out of so many writer’s block moments. It is now my #1 go-to fallback for any piece I’ve written from 2023 to now.
