The eye of the hurricane

The eye of the hurricane

A Chapter by Sdg
"

Inside a mind crumbling down

"
"Bah !" The mountain which had remained immobile flew its silhouette up as a dark figure gasped a hollowing whistle through the cliffs of soiled clothing and hills of urine filled whiskey bottles. The eye above his woodshed slung him out his wedding day into the dark visage, into his reality. The floors began shaking violently yet steady keeping the same tempo where if he could accurately measure the sequence, the bed legs would levitate as his heart pumps and land when it relaxes. "No please" said the shadow man. The man hatef above all things fluctuations in noise, changes In vibration, crescendos or otherwise. Change is usually welcomed by most, however change seemed to drive his mind into a paradoxical spiral trapped In his hypercube, to change is become nonexistent, change means only to shrink within his mind while his vortex prison enlarges. Its an invitation to change, change the parameters he tries to survive, change invites them, as he says. As the ground growled louder so did his anger and fighting compulsion, if Hulk had only his neck veins grow and turn red with hot raging blood flowing through what now looked like water hoses. It would be him.

He sat motionless with his thick callous fingers covering his eyes for a brief minute, one would be understandably mistaken in thinking he was praying or settling down until he up and mumbles,
"Every day I must be forced to hear the quakes while all the dust rains down throughout the floorboards... It comes and goes... circling around... Dancing and walking and shuffling...The worst fate of all stuck on a replay seeing the rabid groundhog... This cyclone runs all over the damn house... Every time I' am trying to f*****g sleep!"


Even the old swollen wooden door seems sick of it, it's been beaten and bruised it even looks like a sad face, so sad as if just waiting for the moment to jump off the hinge, wouldn’t be too much work, its already missing off one. This door to his room is the only door he treated gently for some reason, when nights were quiet hed sit and admire that door, sometimes he would cry just lost in it
the door has been there since his grandfather first lived there whilst all other doors had been replaced.
"Clank!"The sound of a lightning strike suddenly pierces the air almost as if saying "my jobs done." The noise had finally simmered down after about 2 hours and so he layed back on his wooden bed tossing and turning muttering every curse word known to man. About 120 minutes after having damning his life he let's out an excited gasp, his eyes quickly widen, a half crescent moons dim light barely revealing his dark green eyes. Suddenly. as if hed lost 50 pounds and gained 10 years quickly jumps up grabs his white cane and pushes past Ziggy who does no more than watch and not move, be moved but not see. The man enters his upstairs office, he looks for the remote, the remote of life as he calls it , the pause button on life. "Where is it?" He repeated with desperation. Immediately he starts knocking books off the table walking back amd forth from one side to another "where’s the whiskey
." He shrieked so loud its sounded like a current line hit steel. "Where’s the f*****g whiskey!"

"Ziggy!!You backwoods son'b***h where you done hidden it!" Under his breathe he mutters "I'll finish unhinging that last loose screw of yours! You and the world, tryna make oppress me I know. You want to drive me crazy to drive me into a sleepless psychosis. It's not going to work ","haha"' he scoffed. "I see your plans, they wont work, nope! Whatever plot, thought, idea you've planned, I've had them all, every contingency every death everything you've thought I've thought first. Enough! now time to quiet the world," he said with great pleasure as he shut the world down from pole to pole . "Even the colored storms from the north to the south will drown, and you all of you will all be muted, at least for a while. Except when my mind isn’t at a 100 I don’t confuse the voices to the whispers. The whispers that follow the storm that the real sun of a b***h.."



© 2019 Sdg


Author's Note

Sdg
Honest critique

My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register




Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

106 Views
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on March 26, 2019
Last Updated on March 27, 2019
Tags: Psychological, alcoholism, thriller


Author

Sdg
Sdg

Writing
Gods existence Gods existence

A Poem by Sdg