Two Glasses

Two glasses sitting on a silver tray, spinning, both catching the light that glimpsed over the edge of the window rim, constantly circling each other endlessly in the blackness; a ringing resounding through the emptiness, echoing off of the non-existent borders of the empty and haunting realm that his mind.

His eyes darted back and forth as his shoes clicked along the pavement leaving dusty footprints, the lamps along the sides of the walls flickered as if they still ran off of oil and flames. His hands sunk deeper into his pockets, hair slowly falling down from it’s slicked back position atop his head. The tie that swung around his neck loosened with every step. Mouth dry, and stare blank with horror, his pace quickened and his pulse rose to an unhealthily fast rate. The hall in front of him seemed to stretch into eternity. He stopped, his breath like a metronome in the flickering light. His fingers tapping against his legs as if trying to communicate via telegraph, that he was alone, completely alone. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with a sense of an unjustness flowing through the air surrounding the fearful man. A tap behind him made the horrified man spin around to see his stalker. He heard the sound of a gun loading. The veins in his forehead bulged some how hoping that the more blood being pumped to the brain, the less time it would take for him to understand the position he was being put into. He was soon enveloped by the crushing strength of his captor pushing him to the ground with a cold pair of calloused hands. He let out cries of extreme anguish and terror, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, as his body wriggled horrifically trying escape their grasp. Each long clawed finger ripped at his custom made silk suit, that showed his status of income, the sound of ripping fabric and screams echoed throughout the never ending hallway, bouncing off of the walls like a puddle rippling. Flashes of half forgotten memories played over and over in his mind like a satanic record that had been breaking every time a thought crept into his head, pulling him farther into his own madness.

For what seemed like years, he waited in the dark. The smell of stagnant sweet dripping from his skin, filled the dark room so that fresh air was something that could only be imagined. He shook, his body curled up in a fetal pose, lips purged with fear and anxiety on what other things lay in the darkness unseen by his waking mind, but still, in horrific detail, imagined. A beam of golden light flooded the room, flashing across the floor like honey, enveloping the shadows that so resentfully faded. A tall lean figure, stood black against the light, like one of the many shadows that had occupied the room prior. It held in one elongated hand, a silver tray, and placed atop it were two wine glasses, each holding a black liquid. The man shrunk back in horror, his suit tattered and torn to shreds. The figure stood, still holding the tray. The things long arm reached forward, making the dark liquid swish around in the glasses like smoke, and placed it in front of the man. He looked down at the tray, his jaw clenched with uncertainty. Then the door closed and the shadows reentered the room, and again he was alone.

He knew it wouldn't be long now, death that is; actually he hoped it wouldn’t be; he welcomed it. And he knew that one of these glasses held the answer to his demise. He reached forward towards the glass on the left, hoping that soon this hell would be over. He put the rim to his lip and felt the cool liquid pour into his depths. He had found what he had been looking for, happiness; and now that he was dying he knew that it would all be over. He wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again! But, he wasn’t dead. No he felt just as horrifically tortured as before. His eyes widened in horror as the room began to turn vibrant shades of red and purple, each color twisting and contorting in a gross array of shapes and visions. He couldn't understand. He dropped the glass, breaking it on the cold cement floor, shards of it flying everywhere. The remaining cup began to quiver violently on the tray, smoky liquid licking upwards out of the bowl. He felt the center of his spine splitting upwards, stretching, like a road off into the distance. He screamed, as his elongation continued. His fingers extended violently, popping and cracking with malicious intent, jutting outwards into the morphing colors of the room. He rose upwards, relishing his newfound power. He slinked out of the room, making only one sound, the rhythmic sound of his own heartbeat. He walked for miles it seemed, and once he felt he couldn’t walk another step he saw a table, and resting upon it was a silver tray with two glasses containing a black liquid. He stopped feeling that this was some how familiar. He came to the tray and some how understood perfectly what to do with such an object as this. He picked the tray up in one elongated hand and turned around to see a door. He opened it and saw a man in a fetal pose shaking on the floor. He placed the tray on the ground in front of the man. He did not know why he did this but it just felt right, like it was meant to happen. The man reached forward grabbing the wine glass. The man looked up at him in hatred. The man held the glass to his lips but then slammed it against the ground, creating a ringing sound that reverberated throughout the room. The man ran at him, broken glass in hand the man stabbed the shattered stem of the glass into the creature’s ominous silhouette. The creature shrunk back in pain, a long, piercing, hiss of a scream, echoing throughout the dimension. It fell to the ground, the same black liquid pouring out of the wound. The man glared down in satisfaction at his kill. He conjured a devilish grin that slowly crept its way on to his face. But then he stopped. He placed one hand to his neck. It was cold and dying. His hand dropped the same black liquid flowing throughout his veins. He smiled finally at peace, and fell.

Two glasses sitting on a silver tray, quivering, both overflowing, constantly adding to each other endlessly in the blackness; a ringing resounding through the emptiness, echoing off of the non-existent borders of the empty and haunting realm that his mind.