The Universe Was Full

Insanity

Insanity

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The noises are back again.

They'll go away for awhile, and just when I've pushed them to the back of my thoughts, they'll come back, louder and more defined than ever.

The most apparent noise I can hear sounds vaguely like wind chimes, swaying back and forth from the force of an invisible wind and bumping against each other, creating miscellaneous notes that overlap and intertwine, in a way that can sometimes sound oddly peaceful.

Sometimes, the chimes will be faint, clinking together in the dark corners of my brain and creating a sweet, unclear melody that seems to whisper to me in a quiet song that only I can hear.

Other times, however, the chimes are loud, crashing together violently as if an unseeable storm was creating screaming winds and rain that thrashed the tree branches about and caused the chimes to cry out, piercing through my thoughts and emotions, sometimes causing me a slight pain that burned, but at the same time, it felt like I couldn't feel the pain at all. The chimes would burst out in random fits of rage, overcoming everything else and restricting me from thinking about anything except the white-hot, nonexistent clangs that exploded from the hollow, metal cylinders.

This process would repeat in an endless, vicious cycle, starting with a faint melody and evolving into an oncoming whirlwind of silent sound that made my head dizzy and my body feel gelid.

And then they would stop.

They left as fast as they came, all at once and so swift that I almost didn't realize it happened. Almost.

As soon as the sounds stopped, my brain would feel empty and hollow, as if it were a large, empty chamber that could be filled only with the strained, silent whispers of chimes. Chimes that could be heard by no one else.

Sometimes, they would clink together in such a sweet, warm song, one that reminded me of honey and cinnamon on a warm day, creating a tune that could never be repeated in the same way again. Other times, they would create a symphony of electric noise that sounded like hundreds of clocks chiming to different notes all at once and gave off the hinted smell of lavender and rust.

I always start to miss the chimes, and if I think too long about it, I can hear them, but in a strained way that sounded as if I was listening to them play in someone else's head. Were they? Could everyone hear the chimes in the same way I could? Were they a sign of brilliance, or a sign of madness?

Questions will begin to float in my head, every one I could ever imagine surfaces at one point or another and gets no answer but instead leaves me feeling more hollow than I did to begin with. I would then take my mind away from the noises, going that maybe, with some stroke if luck, they wouldn't come back again. And my hopes would raise. I could go for days, weeks sometimes, without hearing anything except my own mundane thoughts, and I would feel happy.

And then the chimes would start again.

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I didn't really like the ending of this, but I thought it was a cool idea and felt like posting something. What do you guys think? Also, do you like these kinds of quick stories? Because I had about two other ideas that I thought of while I was walking (which is where I get most ideas, by basically narrating my own thoughts and experiences and putting interesting twists on them while I walk from somewhere), and I wanted to see if you think I should write them. Thanks.