Paranoia
A man stands alone, stooped over and peering down to his feet. His face is hidden to the world, and small rivulets of tears run their course down his dirty face. He sighs and turns around half expecting but more than a little hoping the world to be gone. His tear reddened eyes spy nothing else but his small room, void of furnishings and adornment. He paces slowly in circles, contemplating silently how unfair the world is, how messed up everything is, and how much he hates it all. Silence is broken by his foot falls, and the man is suddenly aware of how quiet everything truly is. He stops and listens for noises, listens for the generation of power you can hear in buildings when it's completely silent, but the sounds elude him.
He casts cautious glances around the room, and over his shoulder, the eeriness of utter quiet starts to wear the man thin. No longer expecting the world to be gone, or hoping for it's disappearance he now hopes for noise, for something to break the silence, so he begins to walk in circles again. Nothing but the footfalls and his constant breathing attempt to break the suffocating silence. He walks, his eyes dart from wall to wall, corner to corner, floor to ceiling. Nothing. His room is empty except for the one door in and out. His breathing slows and he sits down and attempts to calm his nerves by rationalizing the silence.
The wood floor lacks comfort but he is beyond that now. His nerves nearly explode as a great clock breaks the silence and announces the time to be nine o'clock. Nine deafening dings break the silence with the force of a sledgehammer and rattle the fragile nerves of the crying man. He jumps upright instantly and turns in all directions and looks violently about the room for the source of the noise. He sighs and laments at what he must do. Nothing adorns the room, it is empty except for him and the door. The noise could only have come from beyond. He walks slowly to the door, unsure of his steps, and his course of action. The silence is thick, nearly tangible, and the man looks down at a peculiar sight. A small roach crawls across the floor without the regular speed one afforded it's kind. The silence, the overbearing, thick, obtrusive silence seems to hinder the roaches movement.
The man tries to move faster to the door. Each fast and mad paced step are voiced by his loud footfalls. His hand reaches the knob of the door and grabs a hold of the completely cold metal. He quiet that permeates the room makes his breathing harder, and pushes him as to leave or to open the door. He turns around and looks about the room again, now half expecting to see a dark hole opening in the floorboards releasing some macabre creature to fetch him down to hell. Instead of waiting, he opens the door.
The door swings open despite his firm hold of it. It is as the door is pushed open by a rushing water of silence and quiet. The force of the door and his hold onto the handle pull him forward and fling him to the floor. Wood floor, linoleum, tile, nor carpet great or cushion his fall and support his sanity. He falls face first into dry earth; caked in dust, and cracked from lack of moisture. He coughs as he stands up and turns to look at the door as it slowly falls shut again. The door however, is alone and surrounded by more of the dry ground. The sun is high and menacing. Sweat starts to replace the tears on the mans face with new rivers of wetness. The cockroach scurries past hurriedly and the man watches.
Another door. Two doors in this area of earth that is absolutely devoid of anything. Just as his room, this place is empty. Nothing greets his eyes in all directions. He looks as far as he can manage only to see miles of dusty, cracked earth as far as the horizon. He approaches the door he entered from and tests the knob. The slick metal now feels rusted and old. The door knob does not turn and he tries harder. He grips it with both hands and desperately tries to open the door. The knob makes a loud popping sound and comes off in his hands. Once again the force of his actions sends him careening into the earth. The cockroach wavers around the entrance of the other door, and looks in the mans direction, almost as waiting for him to come with him.
The man walks tentatively to the other door, but realizes he has no other choice but to sit and die, or wander the emptiness. At least the cockroach would be company he thought. This door opens easily and he enters to find a large room with black walls and a black ceiling. The carpet is thick and white, there is a black coffee table and a black leather couch. The room has no other furnishings except for a large black piano. He lets go of the door and it slams shut behind him. The man turns immediately regretting his decision and foolishness. He stammers over surprised words as their is no longer a door where there once was. A single note is played on the piano interrupting his stammering.
Discordant, and cacophonous, the noise fills his head with mixed thoughts, but always fear. A shrill scream pierces his skull and lets in the rest of the horrible sounding piano. The walls start to emanate sound. Screams of horror. Children laughing. A news report talking about falling gas prices. A baby crying. Silence. Television Static. Bits and pieces of a conversation. "Billy, he can not drink that." "Yes he can Martha, he had some yesterday." Awkward silence except for the piano. "If you say so, but don't you blame this on me if he gets sick." A clock. A small child sobbing and crying quietly for his mother. A rapid and loud sounding yelp. Silence except for the piano. A wailing scream of bloody murder.
The man falls to the ground huddled into himself covering his ears. The sounds come from everywhere and nowhere. The clockwork sounds of rusty gears moving against each other pierce through all the other sounds and the man can here a gravelly laugh. The man dares to look and sees the cockroach crawling on the black couch. The man starts to slowly crawl towards the couch. Each time his hands hit the floor a key on the piano is hit, chronicling his movements. He moves faster and the piano cacophony reaches a crescendo of painful noise. The roach turns towards the man and has the face of a human woman. She smiles grotesquely at him and winks playfully. The man covers his face and screams. His scream is the only sound now.
He opens his eyes to see the couch looking as though it was decades old, if not older. The colors of the wall are faded, and the carpet is now a gray color of dust. The piano is broken and tiled from capsizing and breaking a few of it's supporting legs. The coffee table wood looks warped and the colors dull. He sits up and sees a new door in the room. One covered with thick slime and gunk.
Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking when I was writing this, but I may have more to come later. *shrugs* Enjoy however.