Aesthetic short stories

Insanity

"Are you, are you, coming to the tree?

They strung up a man, they say who murdered three.

Strange things did happen here no stranger would it be.

If we met at midnight, in the hanging tree."

---

A puff of smoke escaped from the lips of a man, holding a cigarette in between his fingers. Soft glow of red as ash fell from it. He knew smoking was bad for the lungs, could give him cancer, since he usually never smoked often. This was a rare occasion to catch him puffing, he only did it when life was to over whelming sometimes..

Another drag.

All alone in his living room. Sitting on the couch like he was drunk, the dimly lit lights that needed replaced soon or they'd blow out were trying so hard to keep the small room alive. Flickering every now and then, but that was something he'd care less about.

Right now, all his mind was fixated on was the ever running thoughts swimming in his head. They were so incoherent, he couldn't make out what it meant. Smoking a blunt usually was the go to when shit like this messes him up. But it wasn't enough.

Cemented to the couch, the man was a statue. So still on the outside, but on the inside he was running. There was so much confusion going on he wasn't sure what reality was, and it was terrifying to think that. He would of never guessed his own brain would turn on him like this, making him feel so dissociative, blurry and confused.

He considered himself to be smart, and aware of patterns. A man of routine and facts, nothing else. Any unusual things people considered as scary, like ghosts and such, he always said those were for entertainment. Just edited footage and staged to make people feel uneasy.

There was always a logical answer to everything, at least, in his world.

But now, this was something that even he didn't have a clear answer to. Definitely not crazy, that was not a theory or hypothesis he was ever going to go with.

POP

The man looked up and saw that the light finally blew out.

An exhale of smoke; "fuck.."

Darkness was soon to flood the atmosphere. And it didn't help with his current state at all. He was alone, sitting in the dark, an anxious feeling was eating away at his chest.

Fun.

A breathy laugh broke the silence, humorless and laced with fear. He gripped at his hair, cigarette touching his skin, burning him but he couldn't give a fuck. Spinning and spiraling like water down a drain, slipping down the well, falling, falling, falling.

No logical reason could explain what was happening to him. He simply was at a loss for words, and that petrified him so much. What was this feeling? His lungs were on fire, his head whirling with whispers, he couldn't breathe right.

Panic attack?

No. There was nothing to panic about. All the event's and descions that led up to this moment were not anxiety inducing, nor did he have anxiety that high in general. Not even a tiny comment from the boss or co-workers set him off. So what was it?

A broken sob echoed throughout the room, tears starting to blur the lines between the real and the fake. Was this reality? Or a nightmare inside his shipwrecked head?.. To many questions not enough answers!

"What is wrong with me!"

The once calm and collected man, who had the monotone voice, who spoke in such a smarty-pants manner, was yelling at nothing. Screaming nonsense into the darkness. Lightbulb blew out.. No light.. Where was anything? He couldn't see no outlines of furniture, it was like he was in a black void.

Frantically searching for something to hold onto, his shaky hands scanning every surface. Phone, romote, book, hell even paper would help!

"WHERE IS EVERYTHING?! WHY CAN'T I SEE!" He shot up from the couch and ran around the small apartment, trying to find the door.

Thankfully it was unlocked, he almost passed out from utter relief. Instantly he was greeted with bright daylight. Sunshine warming his cold sweaty skin like a mothers hug. He practically melted under the suns touch. No one seemed to be around, which was semi good on his part.

All the while he felt safe, a thought struck his mind.

He remembers coming home from work around 4, close to evening time. So why is it so bright out? The sun was due to set around 7..

But no phone was found in his pants pockets. His heart dropped.

"This isn't real.."

In a blink of an eye, daylight was replaced with familiar darkness. This time with a light, just a few feet ahead. The man walked towards it, letting his legs control him, as he stared in shock at the sudden day change. A huge tree that stretched upwards for miles was stood before him.

His glance now fixated at the rope connected to a branch.

A lynched man was hanging there, very much lifeless, his skin a sick blue color. The other man stared in utter shock.

Blood was on his hands. When did it get there? No clue. Suddenly he was in a forest, surrounded by so many tree's. A man hung there, a slight breeze swaying him gently.

"What have i done.." The once calm and collected man whispered, tears once again blurring his eye's. The lines between real and fake were so foggy, all he could do was stand in the long grass, watching the blood on his own hands drip.