The Slow Mental Decay of a Beautiful Man
A wonderful romp through the progression of insanity.
It was a beautiful day. And he was a beautiful man. There was so much beauty in just his face alone that he could take the life of another without second thought. This posed legal problems and he had been jailed many times for his deadly good looks. But, sometimes, his beauty got into his head. He would forget that he was just a mere mortal and he would attempt feats no man could dream of accomplishing. Thus, he was the ultimate weapon against himself.
On one not-so-beautiful day, he was strolling along when he noticed that it just wasn't right. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it just wasn't right. He began to scratch his head in wonder. What was it? Something was off. He sat down on a nearby bench and observed the park. He looked upon all the people enjoying their time, seemingly unaware of the strange imbalance that was taking place. He observed the scenery. Everything seemed to be in check, except it was just one degree off from where it should be.
Irritation began to sink in. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out exactly what it was that was wrong. Maybe it was just him? What if it was nothing at all and he was just a bit off that day? He needed to invigorate his senses.
"Excuse me ma'am? Would you kindly slap me across the face?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I...uhh...don't bother asking why. It won't help."
"But...."
"PLEASE?"
He was slapped across the face with a surprising amount of force. He felt a rush of pain on the side of his face, making him reconsider his actions. He stood there for a moment, trying to tell if anything had changed.
People were staring at him as if he was crazy, which he was beginning to believe himself. Parents shielded their child's eyes. Runners began to step up their pace. But, he couldn't sense anything wrong. Maybe the disturbance had disappeared? He couldn't be sure. Was there a disturbance in the first place. He looked down at his hands. His fingerprints looked as if they were deepening, becoming a small woven canyon on his appendages. He shook them around to dispose of this nuisance, but the deep grooves remained. He looked up at someone who was sitting on the bench across from him. They turned and the color of their eyes began to darken until it was pitch black.
He blinked several times. Nothing, just as expected. Now his hands were shaking. Something was up and it wasn't good. He stood up, and felt a rush as his legs extended to full length. He felt as if he could leap and reach the clouds. But, being aware of the situation at hand, that wasn't the best idea. He began to walk, each step thundering upon the pavement, proclaiming dominance and superior walking ability.
Everything started to slow, every motion becoming minute and precise. Despite the slowness of his actions and the actions around him, he could still think at a normal rate. No, it was a bit faster, maybe due to the slow nature of his movements. But at the same time, it's as if that's the way he had always been moving, and he was just inventing fantasies in an attempt to amuse himself.
The color in the trees began to fade. Their previous bright green melded into a sickening gray. The gray spread down the trunk and onto the ground like a virus, eating whatever lay in its path. It was to be avoided. He began to run from the infection, as if it were the end of him. The grayness was such a disgusting color that he wanted to vomit, but he had to press on if he wanted to hang on to the shred of life he had left. Now everything was gray except for himself. He was cornered by this vile presence that had no obvious motive except to consume. Sweat poured from his forehead. The sweat fell from his face onto the gray, and it began to vanish.
He could now fight back. He fended off the gray with his sweat, now flowing in a continuous stream from his body. The gray began to disperse, leaving everything as it was. He breathed a sigh of relief.
He stood in a massive pool of liquid. He looked down at his reflection. It dove towards the surface of the pool. A mirror image of himself arose from the liquid. They looked each other in the eyes. There was such beauty in his face. His reflection began to grin as it pulled an object from behind its back. It drove the blade directly into his stomach, taking all the air away from him. His reflection melted back into the water and disappeared.
He collapsed on the ground, gasping for air, hoping that there was still some left that he could intake. Nothing came to him. There was nothing he could do now. The passerby ignored his futile attempts at holding on to dear life. Despite the intensity, he felt a sense of calm as time passed. But time did not exist now. There was no such thing as normal speed or slow. Everything just was.
He was the ultimate weapon against himself.
On one not-so-beautiful day, he was strolling along when he noticed that it just wasn't right. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it just wasn't right. He began to scratch his head in wonder. What was it? Something was off. He sat down on a nearby bench and observed the park. He looked upon all the people enjoying their time, seemingly unaware of the strange imbalance that was taking place. He observed the scenery. Everything seemed to be in check, except it was just one degree off from where it should be.
Irritation began to sink in. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out exactly what it was that was wrong. Maybe it was just him? What if it was nothing at all and he was just a bit off that day? He needed to invigorate his senses.
"Excuse me ma'am? Would you kindly slap me across the face?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I...uhh...don't bother asking why. It won't help."
"But...."
"PLEASE?"
He was slapped across the face with a surprising amount of force. He felt a rush of pain on the side of his face, making him reconsider his actions. He stood there for a moment, trying to tell if anything had changed.
People were staring at him as if he was crazy, which he was beginning to believe himself. Parents shielded their child's eyes. Runners began to step up their pace. But, he couldn't sense anything wrong. Maybe the disturbance had disappeared? He couldn't be sure. Was there a disturbance in the first place. He looked down at his hands. His fingerprints looked as if they were deepening, becoming a small woven canyon on his appendages. He shook them around to dispose of this nuisance, but the deep grooves remained. He looked up at someone who was sitting on the bench across from him. They turned and the color of their eyes began to darken until it was pitch black.
He blinked several times. Nothing, just as expected. Now his hands were shaking. Something was up and it wasn't good. He stood up, and felt a rush as his legs extended to full length. He felt as if he could leap and reach the clouds. But, being aware of the situation at hand, that wasn't the best idea. He began to walk, each step thundering upon the pavement, proclaiming dominance and superior walking ability.
Everything started to slow, every motion becoming minute and precise. Despite the slowness of his actions and the actions around him, he could still think at a normal rate. No, it was a bit faster, maybe due to the slow nature of his movements. But at the same time, it's as if that's the way he had always been moving, and he was just inventing fantasies in an attempt to amuse himself.
The color in the trees began to fade. Their previous bright green melded into a sickening gray. The gray spread down the trunk and onto the ground like a virus, eating whatever lay in its path. It was to be avoided. He began to run from the infection, as if it were the end of him. The grayness was such a disgusting color that he wanted to vomit, but he had to press on if he wanted to hang on to the shred of life he had left. Now everything was gray except for himself. He was cornered by this vile presence that had no obvious motive except to consume. Sweat poured from his forehead. The sweat fell from his face onto the gray, and it began to vanish.
He could now fight back. He fended off the gray with his sweat, now flowing in a continuous stream from his body. The gray began to disperse, leaving everything as it was. He breathed a sigh of relief.
He stood in a massive pool of liquid. He looked down at his reflection. It dove towards the surface of the pool. A mirror image of himself arose from the liquid. They looked each other in the eyes. There was such beauty in his face. His reflection began to grin as it pulled an object from behind its back. It drove the blade directly into his stomach, taking all the air away from him. His reflection melted back into the water and disappeared.
He collapsed on the ground, gasping for air, hoping that there was still some left that he could intake. Nothing came to him. There was nothing he could do now. The passerby ignored his futile attempts at holding on to dear life. Despite the intensity, he felt a sense of calm as time passed. But time did not exist now. There was no such thing as normal speed or slow. Everything just was.
He was the ultimate weapon against himself.
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