Short Stories

Madness

The darkness closed in on the male, squeezing the air from his lungs as the pressure gradually increased. Everything in his vision became distorted, turning and twisting around combined with a blur or sharpness. A dark substance bled from the cracks in the walls, dripping down. Was it blood? No. It was too dark to be blood, far too dark. It was nearly black but not quite that tone.

A chorus of screams pierced the air, filling the man's eardrums. He pressed his hands over his ears, desperate to drown out the screams. It was useless. The sounds were in his mind, unrelenting as they tormented him.

The distortion of the world around him seemed to move, becoming animated. Everything slowly progressed towards him, the movements jerkish and slow. It was like it all became alive for the first time.

Was this what it was like to be mad? Perhaps it was. The only explanation was madness, his own mind's creation. Another sound was faintly heard; a whimper. Was that his own sound? He created that whimper. It was his cry out in fear, all he could manage within his madness.