Three hundred and some odd days ago, I heard someone say; "First goes a man's innocence, then his reason, and, finally, his mind," but perhaps it was just the wind.
The wind makes such a pretty sound, especially as it blows through the windchimes. I like windchimes, they always seemed so pleasant. I remember windchimes hanging over the door of my grandmother's house. As a child, they were mystical. The blue butterflies, when swayed by the wind, chimed against each other in a melody both soothing and happy.
As I grew older, the blue of the butterflies became faded by time and the sun and was gone, leaving them white like death. Time had changed the sound, too. It was no longer peaceful, but haunting. Every chime would echo in my head until, eventually, the sounds became so overbearing, that I would retire to the house.
The strangest part was the fact that the chiming of the butterflies wasn't the only sound I heard. Often accompanying the chimes was a small voice, heard by no one but myself. I'll never be sure if it was the wind or not, but whatever it was, it will always resound in the back of my mind, lifelessly uttering the same rhyme it always has:
Sanity comes, and it will go.
It will bring death, death will be slow.
If you want to escape it, want not anymore,
For insanity soon be knocking upon your front door.
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Insanity Kills
Mystery / ThrillerThere is always a point in life when insanity overcomes all reason and all reason fades away. It is then, in the crucially dramatic moment, fate is decided. Sometimes, insanity cripples a lone individual, but the strong ones most always recover. O...
