Our Creation of Madness

The lulling ticking matches the rustling of my chains.

As I wrap them tighter and tighter, I find comfort in its cold embrace.

It keeps the salty rain away and limits the greedy abyss that so desperately tries to latch onto anything.

I do not know how much time passed with the lulling ticking and the rustling chains until he came by, making me realize my pain.

With a tall hat and cane, his eyes glistened red,

but he was charming,

and alluring,

and provocative.

He lightly taps on my chains, with his head tilted, matching the speed of the ticking.

Sneering, he lets his cane tap faster,

faster,

and faster.

The ticking speeds up and becomes louder,

louder,

and louder.

But the cane never stops.

It keeps tapping away as its sole purpose was to tap for eternity.

He danced slowly,

calmly,

everlasting,

making my eyes cross as I watched.

The stars in the sky dimmed,

colors drained away,

pieces of my world came crashing down,

but I sat still,

hypnotized,

mesmerized.

He swirled,

glided,

twirled,

and danced on,

and on,

and on,

swaying,

spinning,

twisting.

He placed rose tinted glasses on me, whispering "See the world with my eyes as you sacrifice your sight."

The words hovered,

roamed,

and invaded my mind.

They crammed,

swarmed,

and crowded every available space,

absorbing my sanity.

My mind pulsed as the ground spun,

the chains dug in as the rose tinted glasses pressed into my skin,

red seeped through the gaps of the chains,

my thoughts we drowning,

the ticking kept going,

he kept dancing,

the words kept invading,

the abyss lusted for more as the ticking rapidly ticked,

ticked,

ticked,

pounding at the last bits of my world that teetered,

a scream was bubbling,

rising,

and forced its way through my pressed lips.

"Stop!"

The cane fell to the ground, lifeless.

He stomped around in rags.

The glasses slipped off my face as the chains began to break.

One by one, the chains dropped to the ground that swallowed them.

A light shone through the holes of my worlds, reviving the stars, who gleamed.

Slowly, my world painted itself and he was crawled away, frightened from the beauty of the world repairing itself.

The abyss latched onto him, followed in pursuit, satisfied with its new victim.

The ticking slowed and finally ceased.

The multitude of scars that lined me faded as I walked away from the circle of footprints that he and I made.

 

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