A World Like No Other

(Just a short story I made...XD)

Though I was the one to deal all of the damage, a pain like no other still fills me. A burden far worse than death goes wherever I travel. It clogs up the artery of existence, causing the source of my entirety to work even harder than it should. Radiating from the center of the mind and focusing against a troublesome skull, it generates a pulsation inside of my head. Such a power is generated that I am no longer aware of which thoughts are my own.
If you give up then things will become much simpler, a familiar voice presses against my temples. Some would call it their conscience; I would call it my Hell Buddy. To deny that this voice is my own would be like a mother denying their child. But that irritating sound at the back of my head is the only friend I have ever had.
Words finally form, sweeping against my thin lips in a heated breath. “Just shut up already. If I wanted to give up, I would have the day I started.” A hard truth bares no more explanation. I give the voice a moment to absorb what I had said. Seeing as it dwells within my own mind, it shouldn’t have a difficult time with the task.
That day, the one where everything had started, equaled the worst time of my life. Memories are as distant as the past in this jumbled mess I call a brain. Images will flicker in and out of reach. I can hardly tell if they are just figments of my twisted imagination, or true recollections of the event. So, how could one so easily forget such tragic happenings? I suppose, it’s because, I am not a normal person.
Give me a book, and I will gladly read it. Hand me a cup, and I will quickly guzzle the contents. Throw a baseball in my direction, and I will swiftly snatch it out of the air. But give me a life and I will promptly destroy it. Not excluding my own.
I have been alone in this world since the minute of my birth. That doesn’t mean I was thrown out onto the streets by my parents as an infant. But, something like me had not been born from humans…well, not just two. Sounds odd, does it not?
After a moment of silence, my Hell Buddy speaks up. You’re not human, are you? No. I am definitely not. But how could you kill others and yourself? That is what I do. Who are you? The better question would be what not who. I am the manifestation of all things terrible in this world. Gluttony? Yup. Envy? Undoubtedly. Pride? Of course! Greed? Why not. Wrath? I suppose. Lust? Indeed. Sloth? You bet’cha. The last time I checked, there was also an insurmountable mass of insanity to top it off.
If you are all of these things, then what does that make me? That question, I have answered numerous times. To go along with all of my issues, I do need a relief. My Hell Buddy was created for that purpose. So, I could feel at least an ounce on humanity. But, Hell Buddy has started to gain a life of its own. He – it! Is a separate being from me, though we had once been whole. One of the simplest ways to put the statement is that my conscience has gained a conscience of its own. If one thinks such a thing is impossible, then they would be wrong. The most unmanageable situations are of the utmost convenience for me.



Buzzing like millions of tiny insects, the words consume both sight and sound. Even as I blink away darkness, a ringing in my ears still remains. It’s a distasteful thought that gives a bitter sting to my tongue. I nearly gag at the flavor of wretched craziness.
But, what had Hell Buddy even been talking about? His –its- words were too scrambled. I could hardly understand. There was only one word I could pick out: Running. Suddenly, I take a deep inhalation, causing my eyes to bulge. The world comes back into view as a smile plays against my face and scrunches my slender nose.

But, what had Hell Buddy even been talking about? His –its- words were too scrambled. I could hardly understand. There was only one word I could pick out: Running. Suddenly, I take a deep inhalation, causing my eyes to bulge. The world comes back into view as a smile plays against my face and scrunches my slender nose.
“Run? Why must I run? Who from? Hell Buddy, I should not be the one asking questions.” My frustration builds up into a suffocating aura around my lean body. Isn’t it clear to see? You must run. Just keep running. Run. From not only those chasing you. But run from yourself. Isn’t that what you want? Is to run? Feel human? Run. Run. Run. Run. RUN.
Without a moment of hesitation, I am doing as I was told. At first, I start off in a light jog. Then, I begin to move my arms with more force as unreasonable panic makes its way into my soul. The sense of awareness digs into my guts, giving me a horrible stomach qualm. For some reason, I couldn’t stop moving down the sidewalk. No one bothers to move out of my way, and within a minute I have slammed into a dozen pedestrians. They are knocked onto their name brand clothing backs but don’t get back up.



There it is again, that pesky phrase. But this time it brings a migraine with it. I want to collapse, drop to my knees and take a break from all of this running. My body won’t listen to any given command. Connections have been lost, and the wires running from my brain to my muscles have been cut. Pain, like no other, streaks throughout my entire body and a blood-curdling scream rips its way up my throat. Before it can be produced, I clench my teeth together and let it vibrate within my mouth.

With arms pumping even harder and legs starting to drag, somehow I keep going. Every joint in my body shouts at me to stop. But with no reception at the moment, their pleas get nowhere. Tears burn against the back of my turquoise eyes. Waterworks would only make me look even more pathetic, so I won’t let them break free. If you don’t keep going then it shall all be over. Keep running. Just keep running. Or they will get you.
I watch as the world starts to shift around me. It slowly goes from a bustling New York street to a more eerie scene. In front of me, people are still chatting away on cell phones and munching on hot dogs. Behind me, a plague of malevolence is creeping its way towards a helpless victim – and that would be none other than I. It devours the city with dense, nearly black, haze and dull, gray, skies that overpower an afternoon sun. Slits of disappearing light tickle against my epidermis, and I generously welcome the heat before I must say good-bye.
Too abruptly for my liking, the evil disease ingests what had once been a massive city. Beneath my feet is no longer solid cement, but mush for dirt. Unwillingly, the tears break free and stumble their way down my burning cheeks. The air is frozen against my paling skin, sending an unforgettable chill up my spine. A dark cloud sticks nearby, while it should be suspended in the sky with the rest. The fog moves with the wind. A full moon is revealed and gives off a spotlight, with me at the center of the stage. Terror strikes my heart at the sight of the endless rows of tombstones. Not one block of granite has a name engraved into it, but instead are the initials RIP.
Discomfort starts at my ankles and slowly creeps into my nervous system. A sharp breath is released as I jolt my head down, and stare at a pair of decomposing fingers wrapped around my ankle. I kick at the scraggly wrist in hopes of getting it to release me. Suddenly, four more hands shoot out of the ground to grasp my calves and thighs. They start to tug downwards, their overgrown nails digging into my jeans.
“Let go! I am all things terrible in this world! You can’t be doing this to me!” I shout at the top of burning lungs. My throat constricts. “I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK THERE!”
Inch by inch, foot by foot, I sink into the ground. Suddenly, complete and utter darkness engulfs everything. But one of my hands is still out of the ground, held upwards in hopes of someone finding and saving me.

My eyes snap open. Glistening tears rupture into transparent glitter against the bleak background. I’m falling downwards, but I still have my arm outstretched before me. It’s the same appendage that had managed to stay aboveground after the attack.
My hand frantically inches forward, wanting – needing – someone to take hold of it. My jaw hangs down, in a screaming formation. But not a single sound is manufactured from the larynx. Thick bubbles blow outwards from my mouth and nostrils, salt water burning my eyes. Water? But I had been inside of the earth no more than a second ago.
Then, it’s like a force is pushing me, faster. My skin starts to itch and burn as I move like a torpedo. The bubbles come quicker, bursting up and towards the blanket of blue while I go the opposite direction - into a hole of black. There’s an endless abyss below the ocean’s surface. And I’m falling straight down into the dismal darkness.
Something forms in front of me, practically out of nowhere. Their smooth fingers brush against my blistering ones. A voice becomes muffled against the rippling H2O. “Arcadian!” I haven’t heard my name in forever. My tears flow harder, but mix with the surrounding liquids. I gnash my teeth together, and stretch for the feminine hand. With one last tug, I force my arm up and we tightly grasp onto one another’s wrists.
I’m pulled up and it’s as though I crash through glass. Sunlight obscures my vision as I stumble forward, trying to maintain balance on unfamiliar legs. I can’t move my arms, as though they are glued against my torso. For some reason, I am uncaring. I feel a quick prick at my arm. For a moment, I stagger.
A hand is pressed between my shoulder blades, keeping me balanced. I take in a breath of cool air, greeting the oxygen with force. A petite figure comes into view. She must be my savior. I mouth the word: mom. I want to tell her to not send me back to that place. But it all comes out muffled and echoed.
“Mom?” a gruff voice unexpectedly questions. There is another twinge to my arm, similar to a needle puncturing the skin. The area around me starts to flicker and burn away, like an old film caught on fire. My mother stands in the hissing flames, waving and grinning.

With multiple blinks, reality returns. In the center of a dimly lit room, I sit. There is a single, barred, window behind me. Where I sit. Always unmoving. Life going on around me as if I am of no importance to its twisted routine. I sit. Injected with an unknown substance that’s supposedly used on people like me. Most likely to rid me of hallucinations. I sit. In a wooden chair. Bonded with the chair by leather straps that press against my torso and legs. I sit. In my itchy straight jacket. Always wondering if the white shall ever turn yellow like my socks used to. I sit. With my mouth covered. A muzzle over the lower part of my face. Making me feel more animal than human.


I sit. In my beautiful asylum.


A single tear slides down my cold, left, cheek. But a smile remains glued upon my aching face. With more effort than planned, I whisper to my inner friend. “Until next time, Hell Buddy.”

Wow that is intense