Laughter Is

I saw him again, but this time I knew I wasn't coming back. He was standing in my hallway, the lighting now showed this horrid thing more clearly. Parts of his clothes were torn into, showing massive gash marks in various areas of his body. It's hard for me to remember looking back now, but I remember those details of him the best, the way the wounds pulsated and oozed out of him. It makes me pale thinking about it...regardless, I remember his motions only in blurs, I remember his head twisting at an incredibly high speed to look at me, and I remember the breaking of his bones as he did this, the crackle of cartilage as that disgusting audible snap filled the air. He charged me, rushing down my hallway his claws teared into the walls destroying what remained of my home. I couldn't even think to run, I was to awestruck to move. He pinned me to the wall, I could barely breath, I could feel the life leaving me, but before death could swoop in and finish the job, he dropping me. I plummeted down, it felt like forever while I fell. I remember hitting the ground and gasping for air, holding my bruised neck as he cackled menacingly above me, as he laughed my body began to laugh along with him, making me cough harder, which made me laugh louder, which made me cough harder, as so on and so forth.

The next thing I remember doing was literally begging at his feet, I knew he was doing this...but I still as of now can't figure out why...but I tried to...by fucking god did I try, I cried, I screamed and I begged between my laughter and gasping for air. He never responded, but he knew what I was saying, I could feel it, I could feel the sentience in this abomination, that unmistakable sign of intelligence and sentience you can't find in an animal...I shudder to think about there being more things like him, more evil, horrible, destructive hell-spawn. Regardless, after I couldn't tell you how long, minute, hours, or even years he stopped laughing, not that it matters how long it was, nothing matters after you hear that laughter, after you hear that unmistakable cackling wheeze so powerfully forced out of his body. His mighty grin turned looking around the room, before turning back to me, he leaned down, and grabbed my face, pulling me close, I could smell him now, he smelled like an old carnival, mixed with rotting flesh and curdled blood, that smell penetrating what solidarity I had left, I felt completely exposed, like nothing was mine anymore...like I was a plaything. He leaned in close his massive teeth inches from my face, and he spoke, god if I never hear that voice again, it will honestly be to soon. His voice was just as raspy and worn as his laugh, but unlike his deafeningly loud laugh, his voice was, low, almost a whisper, however it still sounded as if he was with-straining laughter he said two words to me before he left. He said something I've been in deep thought since, he made me question everything...nothing seems real anymore...nothing seems to matter. Morality, life, the world, nothing seems to matter now...I expect to him to be back soon, I don't know if I'll even have time to post this before he returns, but I doubt I'll ever post again. All he said to me was...

Laughter Is.

-Max

Laughter which cannot be suppressed is catching. Sooner or later it washes away our defences, and undermines our dignity, and we join in it -- ashamed of our weakness, and embittered against the cause of its exposure, but no matter, we have to join in, there is no help for it.
- Mark Twain, "Indiantown"

Days Gone By

I keep laughing more and more, specifically in situations where I shouldn't be laughing, where I don't find anything funny. It feels rooted deep, this instinct to laugh. I don't feel like I can fight it, and I'm losing a will to do so. I want to say it will all go away, that it will all stop, but I know that can't be true. I know I don't have long, every day feels like a march to my death, well due to this impulse worming it's way though my head, a roller-coaster ride to my death might be a better analogy.

I think I've defined irony... I wanted to make people laugh, but now laughter is going to kill me. I'm not blind after all, I see it clear as day, I see it now. I see that how in a sick, twisted, way this is all funny, how it could all be a fucking joke. I know why I said it at the funeral now, I get it. I said it's all a fucking joke.

Because my life is a fucking joke, and you know what the worst part is? I just laughed at that statement...

-Max