My Insanity

by Martin Länger

  “There you have it, my fellow viewers. Even the experts are speechless! In case you just joined us, today, ten years ago, a horrifying incident occurred that shocked a small town like nothing before…”

  “Oh dear god, not again,” the man sighed in front of the screen.

  “The thirty-one-year-old man Lohka Tarali and his wife Sygyn Tarali, thirty-two, both brutally executed themselves in a double suicide. After the autopsy, the police discovered that Mrs. Tarali was pregnant at the time. The child died shortly after inside the womb. Both corpses were mutilated and dried up when the officials arrived. After a thorough investigation, the police ruled out the possibility of a third suspect, as there were no fingerprints or other evidence which indicated otherwise.”

  The audience started to mumble among itself nervously. “We were there – live – in the small town where this lovely couple found it's premature ending. Asking the important questions to the neighbors and townsfolk, right after this commercial.”

  “And stop!” exclaimed the man who promptly switched off the TV. “I get that you have to have some kind of hook for your viewers to get them invested early on, but come on. This goes a bit too far, doesn't it? I don't even want to know what drove them to kill each other. In a novel, this would make for an exciting twist, but in reality, it's just tragic.”

  His mind began to wander, as his thoughts would not leave him and the topic at hand alone.

  “Ten years have already passed, and they still lunge at this case like a stray cat on the hunt for food. So much has happened since then, and yet everything still feels like all of it was empty. As if the world around us made the next step without us...” Lost in thought, with a hand on his chin supported by his left arm, he went up and down, discussing with himself.

  “If I remember correctly the police thought it was some kind of suicide pact. Like Romeo and Juliet, the unromantic version. Though maybe their thoughts reflected the exact opposite?” he began to ascertain. “Somehow it's fascinating. An everyday life as a facade to deceive others, while their true personality remained in hidden. A beautiful tragedy. Maybe they were the only people who knew the real personality of their significant other. Maybe they are more romantic than what I gave them credit for.”

  “Do you believe those two were victims of the shared subconsciousness of humanity?” a sudden voice resounded in his room, which seemed to be coming from the television.

  “You mean the theory that all of humanity is interconnected through their subconscious – ultimately sharing the same cruel fate?”

  “Well, wouldn't that just be the most terrifying thought you've ever heard?”

  Right in that instance, whereas the last words echoed through his mind, the apartment owner turned around in a flash to catch a glimpse of his TV-screen which was still turned off.

  “What the..” his irritated expression watched over the silent piece of technology

  “I guess, I am way too tired. I’m starting to imagine things,” he mumbled as he swept his palm across his forehead. He wandered aimlessly through the apartment, almost knocking over the little night lamp on this desk. It didn't break, but while he prevented the lamp from falling, he was once more reminded of the inscription at the bottom.

  “Gwyn, you are the wondrous light in our small world,” he read to himself, just like all those times before.

  “Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad.” He senselessly shook his head and put the lamp back into its place.

  “Alright, stop this nonsense at once, Gwyn! You have had enough sick thoughts for one day. Romantic suicide? Beautiful tragedy? Automatically turned on TVs? This is getting too weird,” he argued. “I heard it's normal to have strange thoughts, but I really don't like being alone with them. Just like people, standing on a cliff with the urge to jump, even though they would never do it. What is wrong with me?!” His feet tapped nervously on the floor, as he seemed to be unsatisfied with himself. After closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, much like a personal mantra, he calmed himself down. His heart was already pounding in his chest as more and more promiscuous images began to cloud his mind.

  “Were they happy? Would I be happy, if I were someone else?” he whispered as the sun presented itself with its last rays of sunlight. Unconsciously his gaze went back to his work desk, and for a moment he felt as if the sadness of this tragic event motivated him in a weird, and unusual way.

  “Or maybe I should start with more coffee – to boost my morale,” he rationalized once more as he turned his eyes away. With haste, he jumped through the chaotic flat. His normal routine about to start once again.

  First, the double-step around the third staple of books, a turn around the mountain of notes with the coffee stains and last, but not least, the zigzag pattern leading into the living room. A room which he had transformed into his personal wardrobe since he very rarely got around to put everything in order. Diverse sets of clothing clogged up the feet of the wooden dining table and its adjacent chairs, which were almost exclusively covered in more cloth. This didn't bother him in the slightest, even less then he admitted to himself since he knew where each piece was.

  With a few sleights of hand he threw off his white shirt and put on one of the gray ones, matching the trousers, he clenched himself into right after. Leather shoes with slight heels and silver straps covered his feet, while a long, black cotton coat warmed his body. Adding a thin, green scarf – swung around his neck, and the last thing one could hear was how Gwyn suddenly flew from his nest.

  Determined to distract himself from his mind and problems he wandered the crowded streets, which conveyed the first signs of the coming winter. With single-minded steps, he shot past the deep puddles and the falling leaves of the trees, which carried raindrops like little boats to the ground. The wind aroused his ears with its chilling grip, just as the murky masses confined his mood.

  After a while, he came to a halt. A modern looking cafe just opened not far from his place which looked quite unfamiliar to him. Stylish and with cursive letters the words 'Cafe Coskun' were imprinted on the front sign above the door.

  Upon entering, the aromatic smell of freshly brewed coffee caressed his senses with delight. Though all that seemed to have been blown away as he purchased his large cup and looked out the windows that faced the cluttered streets.

  “They are moving like a swarm. All of them look like they have a goal in mind and keep on marching forward. And yet here I am, feeling nothing,” he thought sorrowful, while staring at the steaming, black brew inside his cup. Once more his mind served as a safe space. An escape from a reality he tried to work his way through. As his thoughts began to stray, images of the dead couple from before flashed in front of his eyes. “Multiple personalities, huh? I wonder what that would feel like,” he pondered.

  “What would be the meaning of having a second 'identity'? Ha, maybe my alter ego would happen to know why I feel so stuck in life. It may even give me some insight.” He wondered with a half attempted smile as he left the store.

  Just as he threw away the cup that was still half-full, an old man came screaming down the streets while almost crashing into him.

  “THE END IS NEAR! HUMANITY WILL FALL! EVEN THE COLLECTIVE SUBCONSCIOUSNESS CAN'T SAVE US NOW. HURRY AND DIE, FOLKS. DIE WITH A SMILE, AND A LAUGHTER FIT TO MAKE THE HEAVENS CRY IN ANGER!” he shouted while rushing past Gwyn.

  “Ouch,” Gwyn groaned as someone else bumped into him, who promptly vanished in the gray masses, following the loud, strange man. The only thing he heard was a lovely sounding 'sorry' from a coat in an endearing and striking red color, that disappeared as soon as he caught a glimpse of it.

  “What a weird day,” Gwyn sighed. “Seriously, ever since I've hit my twenty-sixth birthday everything's gone down the drain. Even Tyr is onto me, begging me to help with that project of his. He is so sure it would be the right thing for me, but what does 'the right thing' even mean?” His mind was going through one train of thought after the next.

  Just like
a robot on autopilot, he maneuvered the streets, avoiding any contact as best as he could. His mind was still racing, trying to make sense of it all.

  “I always thought you knew what to do when the time comes. But now it feels like the time will never come. Even when looking at all these random people, I can't stop comparing myself. They feel towering and unreachable.”

  He briefly regretted having thrown away his cup earlier as he stopped for a second, lost in his own mind. “Like I don't belong here. Like I don't have a story of my own to tell.”

  “KYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH,” a loud scream burst out in front of him after a large object fell from the sky and crash-landed into a nearby car, completely shattering the roof.

  “What in the world was that?!” he gasped, as he hastily made his way through the crowd to get a sense of what happened. Just when managed to shove the last person out of his way, he instantly regretted it. As soon as Gwyn burst through the cracks of his fellow pedestrians, his eyes were witnessing a horrifying scene. It was a man, soaked in his own blood, with dead eyes and twisted bones that punctured through his skin, laid out before them. It looked almost as if his own skeleton impaled him. It was the single most traumatic thing he had ever witnessed.

  His heart began to race, and he was about to scream himself, just as the shoulder of another man jostled him.

  “Sorry, no offense,” the man shouted in a hurry, as Gwyn barely saw what he looked like. Only two silver cufflinks scintillated before his eyes before the voice vanished into the masses. Before Gwyn could even try to understand the situation his thought process was promptly broken by the flash from a nearby cell phone.

  “Woah, dude, that's, like, gross and stuff,” the buddies of a young man laughed as he joyfully presented the picture he took as some sort of trophy.

  “Shouldn't someone call the police or something?” This time the voice of a woman spoke up, as more and more started to follow.

  “Jeez, what a loser. Killing himself and still being a burden to society.”

  “Shut up will ya?! We don't even know what happened. Maybe he didn't fall on his own?”

  “This is so horrible. I wonder if he had any family?”

  Gwyn’s eyes started to nervously twitch, as the comments went on and on, without anyone moving. It was just as if that dead man in front of them was nothing more than another entertaining thing happening in their otherwise meaningless life.

  “Why.., Why.., isn't anyone doing anything?” he muttered in a passive-aggressive voice to himself.

  “HAE?! Why aren't you doing anything, huh?! You're such a dick for talking down to others while being just like them,” someone shouted behind his back, after overhearing what he said. “Yeah, who do you think you are?” other voices started to chip in.

  “They’re right... I'm just like them,” he thought to himself in shame, ducking away.

  “I'm just an observer. Watching my life passing me by from the sidelines.”

  Without another word, the young man disappeared into the mass of people that only seemed to increase as time went on. The only thing that broke through the gossip, sighs, and shocked faces, were the sirens of the ambulance screeching in the distance.

  After returning to his flat, in the lovely little street with the baroque-esque look, he still hadn’t said another word. Almost as if nothing happened, he returned to his desk and rested his head on his palms. Even as the day came to an end, and the streetlamps began to claim their nightly territory, one single light remained lit. It was in Gwyn’s apartment, his TV screen flashing bright lights on his walls, visible even through the thick fog outside.

  It looked like he was sending an SOS from a lighthouse on a dark island.

  As Gwyn was still sitting at his desk, mumbling to himself, the voices coming from behind him started to engulf the room in their own atmosphere.

  “Where do you see yourself in ten years? Don’t you think about your future?”

  “The early bird catches the worm. Here at Santos Industrials we value your life and guarantee you a safe future - for you and your family.”

  “Escape the daily boredom of life and enjoy the sun with our special offer.”

  “Let me ask the cards about your fate...”

  “We'll show you the hidden shortcuts in life. Just give us a call.”

  “After I left my husband I was finally able to start living.”

  After a while the empty noises seemed to have accumulated into a giant shadowy figure that was resting on his shoulders, carefully watching his every move with anticipation and fascination. Even the words on his sheets started to disappear as he was writing them down. Like they were brought to life, taunting him. Little hands, which grew out of their tiny, handwritten bodies, holding each other in an unexpected and somewhat heartfelt camaraderie. Like brothers and sisters in arms, trying to escape the vast emptiness of white that stretched out before them. His eyes grew heavy and just when it seemed as if his hand slipped yet again from his desk, before slamming his chin onto the desk, he stood up and left. The only sound that resounded in the apartment complex was the clangor of glass and a sudden thunk of a door falling shut.

  As the night went on, a small shadow was the only thing that could only be seen of him as he gracefully hopped from one cone of light to another. All the while swinging a bottle of half-drunken wine between his fingertips. A performance-like jump followed yet another one, as Gwyn tried to outperform himself not touching any lines on the sidewalk.

  Before he even noticed, the bottle slipped from his fingertips and broke on the pavement, while the red wine engulfed the striation with its distinctive color. Without a word, the young man bowed down before the broken bottle as if to honor a fallen comrade.

  “Mhh?!” he uttered as he raised his head and noticed a strange looking gate at his side. “W-what the hell is this? Am I already drunk?”

  The gate was held in place by imposing stone walls while being decorated with two even more imposing looking statues. For Gwyn, these two looked almost like snake-like beings or even lizards. He couldn't really tell because his eyes had a hard time focusing in the dim streetlights.

  “Well... I definitely would've preferred something with wings”, he smirked almost feeling at ease. Out of nowhere, he flung his arms from his body while balancing them in the cold night wind. “My thoughts are my own, right? I am my own self, and I am in control... or not?!” He questioned himself as if he had hoped for someone out there to answer him.

  “Tyr, my old friend, I hope you remember this made-up stance of our freedom. I wonder what you would think if I showed you just how pathetic I feel inside?”

  With his dazed look he realized there was a stone tablet embedded into the wall next to the gate.

  “'Graveyard Nova Nada',” he read. “Ugh, why did I have to end up here of all places?” he groaned in agony. “I should be the last person to forget about this place... I still don't get why you insisted on being buried here.” His voice teared up a little just before he shook his head and got a hold of himself.

  In his suppressed anger, Gwyn kicked the gate in front of him, which opened loudly with a gruesome screeching.

  “W-what the hell? Shouldn't it be closed by now?” he thought as he carefully approached the gate. “Whelp, guess it's too late to regret anything now anyway,” he justified to himself as he went through.

  It was just as he remembered it. The small gravel walk connected the plain gravestones with each other, while a huge cathedral stood in the center with a fountain made out of marble. Even the small lanterns that were supposed to light up the way were either just as damaged as he remembered them, or removed altogether. It's been awhile since his last visit, but still the uneasiness he felt never truly went away. Gwyn wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that was tensing him up, or if he was simply tired. Everything felt strange and out of place, yet hauntingly familiar.

  With an insecure lurch he made his way past the tombstones before he stopped at a giant cross made out
of green marble, that was built next to a beautiful bed of snowdrops, in full bloom on this autumn evening.

  “Here lie Ragos and Cynthia Viridas, loving parents, kindhearted friends, and seminal teachers,” he read the engraved text in an afflicted voice, just as he always did.

  He read through it so many times whenever he visited, that the only things that stopped him were his own deficits creeping up on his mind.

  “Hey, Mum. Hey, Dad,” he finally brought out. “I know it's been a while. I hope you aren't mad at me, even though I don't have an elegant excuse ready for you. Which also brings me to my next guilty feeling, though this isn't your fault. In fact, nothing ever was,” he argued. He felt his eyes tearing up once more with every word as his heart began to clutch in his chest.

  “I know it's normal to have doubts, but I just can't seem to get past it.”

  Gwyn knelt down in front of the grave of his late parents.

  “I always believed that I never had trouble with finding interesting stuff, meeting people or simply having fun, but it feels like something crucial is missing. Maybe I'm just tired of going with the flow. The path I always took,” he tried to put on a smile, as if he was waiting for an answer he knew would never come.

  “What if we could turn everything upside down? Would I be happier if I were somewhere else - being someone I'm not? Am I the problem?” He gasped and looked away to hide the fact that he was smearing his arm across his eyes.

  Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, he stood up.

  “But what am I telling you all this crap for? You guys already did your job. I should learn to deal with my own problems. Maybe it really is beautiful because it feels so tragic and hopeless? It just can't possibly get any worse from here on out, right?”

  He dusted the dirt from his pants and bowed in front of his family grave as he slowly walked away.

  “I still miss you guys from the bottom of my heart,” he muttered quietly to himself without looking back.