"Entropy"

TW:// Self Harm and Gore.

"Entropy plagues our mind since birth."

John reached out his hand. but the bird flew away; his hands inches from its tail. He sighed heavily and watched it soar up the muddy yellow sky. Sheets of clouds covered the sky, all bleached with a yellow tinge and John could only wonder how bright the sun shone above them. He felt like even if a tiny ray of the sunshine hit his skin, he would levitate.

Regardless, he thought of that as impossible. The Earth held him back, its roots gripped into his legs. He felt so heavy he wondered if he would plunge through the ground anytime soon. Tracing his eyes through the landscape of his universe, John did not recognize where he was. He only remembered how he got here. Somewhere in his mind, an imagine of a ghostly desolate train carrying him here flashed around his mind. He knew this wasn't the first time the train had taken him somewhere. He looked around more and found himself at the entry of a alley way walled with high grass.

Something about this place was very familiar but his lack of ability to pinpoint his lost thoughts made him more angry. Without anywhere else to go, he walked forward and into the pathway ahead of him but as he walked along the grassed alleyway, he felt a presence watching him from afar, as if it had eyes in every direction. John didn't feel like the eyes were malicious, but they still made him uncomfortable. Not knowing their intentions were somehow worse.

John refused to turn back and check in fear of something he didn't want to admit, didn't want to confront. Soon, after hours of walking, panting and wiping his sweat off his forehead, he realized he was in a maze and that it had no intention of ending. He stopped near a creeper vine that told him that he had been going in circles. He panted and tried to rest before trying again. Throughout the maze, a loud bell tore through the air and surrounded his eardrums.

The bell felt sinister; a creeping threat that was looming nearer. John's fear was now paramount to his anxiety. Would he escape before the bell got close? He remembered how the bell seemed to surround him with its sound. Now he wondered if there was any escape at all.

To the right of John, was a road which he was sure wasn't there the first time he was here. He strode silently along the road. He wondered how weird it was that all other sounds seemed subdued but the bell was as loud. He couldn't hear his own footsteps as he walked on the coarse dirt road.

But the scream that erupted from his mouth a while later revoked that fact. In front of him lay a dead body. It was a mixture of brown and purple colors; John realized the body was decaying, its pale bones showing in some areas. He hated looking at it, as if the sight was piercing through his skin. Strangely enough, above the body was a line written in quotations that burned with a neon glow.

"The peace that passes with understanding,"

The idea of those lines somehow made John angry and bitter. His scoffing persisted as he raced along the path to discover yet another body, with another quote.

"The example of patient suffering is in itself a most valuable lesson to an impatient world"

He ignored this one, and raced down the path again. His anger rose as a third body and quote mocked his escape. He was in despair, something in his head was struggling to escape and it banged with pain. Why was he so angry? He felt like these bodies were looked at him with their decayed faces and laughing while feeding him lies.

"The fear of suffering is worse than suffering itself"

John now laughed back at the bodies. He laughed so hard, he wondered if he could compete against the bell. There was no "peace" understanding, there was no lesson in pointless "suffering" if all he got at the end was death. John somehow knew that he had suffered enough to prefer the fear of it than the real thing.

Throughout his tantrum, John kept note of the eyes watching him. He wondered what they thought of him. He feared if they thought ill of him. He was scared to displease them, he didn't know why. He stood there paralyzed for a while, his fear so profound he couldn't move. All the while, he noticed the bell ringing several times, each as sinister as the last. This did nothing to satiate his need for comfort. He realized the bells were also louder than before; each one getting louder and closer. John screamed as it rang again.

This time the bell was so loud, he felt his body shake and the decibels tore at his ear drums, making his ears bleed. He knelt and touched his hands to his ears; trying to measure how much blood he was losing. He soon realized, his nose, his eyes, his mouth, everything was bleeding.

The agony was so terrible, the he felt compelled to end himself. If this was living, he decided he would not live. He didn't want to feel. Not if it was was like this. The eyes still watched him, doing nothing to help. He wondered what they thought now, seeing him kneeling and screaming.

He tore a branch from the maze walls, and he considered the sharp object for a moment before he plunged it into his stomach; his insides searing with pain. Soon the pain gave away, the agony stopped and John was delighted. He looked forward, hoping to see an end to the maze. Instead a long alleyway line with grass walls met him once again. Somewhere far, a bell sounded; sinister and malicious.

John lost his mind. There was no escape. His stomach now began to ache again; impaled by a branch. The catharsis faded; his body went numb and his world slowly went dark. John closed his eyes and drifted into limbo. If this was a dream, it would be a cheap way to end his story. Suddenly, his body hit a wall and he woke up panting in his bed, the sheets stained with sweat. John cursed.

His dream didn't surprise him. He'd been having the same one for a few weeks now. Each time with a different location and no knowledge of who he was. It was weird how he remembered each one after waking up. Always the same sequence of events and the same conclusion. It was like suffering was burned into the lexicon of his mind.

His room's open window glazed the inside with the pearly red- orange sunshine as it rose saliently over the hills. He was saved for one more day; until the sun made the hills its grave. White clouds soared through the sky as he looked at the grey morning sky. John looked at the clouds and wondered how long would it be before he would disappeared and evaporated into nothing like the clouds, roaming the skies. He felt like his head spun, arranging his mind in a disordered state. Hope to him was a friend that never arrived.

John put his hand to his temple and sobbed softly as birds soared past his window, chirping with a subtle silent sadness.

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writers note: first time writing something this metaphorical, don't know how it turned out but hope :) you guys enjoy.

The quotes were taken from 1) The Shadow Hunter Series

2) Sherlock Holmes and 3) Paulo Coelho respectively. Simply meant to use a prop to push the themes present in my story.

Ps: if anyone has questions about the story feel free to comment :) or just simply feel free to criticize, all feed back is appreciated.