An introduction to madness

Jolted awake, gasping and choking for air, I throw my eyes open, immediately looking through thick puddles of sweat, bending the light, distorting my vision and stinging my eyes. The salty contents of pooled up sweat burns and briefly takes my attention away from my frenetic search for air. My chest is tight, lungs burning like when I was a kid and I would stay down too long in the deep end of the pool, I would push off the bottom convinced I couldn’t wait another second before I would open my mouth and breathe in. My heart pounds violently, to the point that it’s all I can hear. Now, it’s deafening me, the sounds punching me within my ears, as if the neighbors upstairs broke off the volume knob to their stereo while listening to one of their favorite Lamb of God CD’s. I sit up abruptly and throw my hands to my face, hysterically wiping away the streams of sweat that have been pouring down on me while I slept.
A sharp blast of cold air hits my chest from an A/C duct above me, I begin to shiver from the cooling of my sweat soaked clothes, which are tightly clinging to me and taking on the cold whip of the air conditioning vent. The saturated blanket I wrapped myself in before I dozed off reeks of body odor and I notice a sweat stained dark blue outline of my body lying there beneath me on the still new light blue microfiber sofa I just purchased less than a month ago.
I clenched my fists tightly and nearly blacken my own eyes as I rub the sleep out of my eyes and try to regain some focus. That deafening, double bass, drum solo in my ears begin to soften as my heart begins to draw down from DEFCON 1 status and return to normal operation. This only eases my senses for a split second as I begin to struggle with the root of my frantic awakening and the unquestionable sensation that I may be in real danger.
As I regain my normal hearing I begin to hear the rushing of cold air escaping the air vent positioned directly above me, I notice the torn and tattered pieces, of dirt stained silver duct tape that were once placed there, after someone lost the screws to it. The whistling of the air blows hard, escaping the vents and howling at me with that ominous sound that hurricane winds make as they rush up and over buildings, down narrow alley ways and across the field weaving their way through the tree leaves and branches.
My nostrils flared with the strong musty scent of mildew which was evident by the sight of numerous water stains surrounding me from years of roof and A/C leaks left unattended. I began to inspect my surroundings from the safety of my sofa where my own personal wet spot still lies there beneath me, my tightly wrapped clothes were rapidly cooling and quickly becoming unbearable.
I scan my apartment cautiously; looking across the room, through a few broken and missing blades, no doubtedly from the original set of blinds placed inside this apartment, some lifetime ago. I can just make out the clear sky and low hanging sun just outside the windows of my 5th floor apartment building. I lean in and over to take in a better view when I take a direct hit from a beam of sunlight, I wince in pain slamming my eyes shut again prepared to experience another momentary blindness. I reach up to cup my eyes, finally convinced I must get up and search out the cause of my anxiety. Still partly unable to make out the shapes in my apartment I open my eyes, tossing the heavy wet blanket atop the sofa and stand to my feet. I steady myself, fighting the dizzy spell from rising to quick. The blacked out blurred vision begins to subside and I am slowly able to begin focusing in on my apartment.
I blindly search for and grip the back of the chair and stand silently, attempting to both listen intently on what may be the cause of my traumatic awakening while straining to recall if it were possibly just a bad dream.
I notice my heart rate climbing; my attempt to slowly take in all of the details of my apartment becomes scattered and erratic. I can feel my pupils’ dilate as my eyes bounce frantically from corner to corner. My 8oo sq ft apartment begins to feel as though it is closing in on me. The old lawn chair I covered with a sheet and put in a corner across the room seems to be stampeding in my direction.
I whip my head over my shoulder, looking into the direction of the kitchen, where from that window; I was first introduced to the sounds of Madness. For my first introduction Madness took the form of a fly, and the sound of that desperate fly, pinging on and off the window pane, buzzing and buzzing louder and louder while it repeatedly charged and retreated, charged and retreated banging itself against the window, over and over again. Madness for a moment appeared to be contained within the fly, for the fly must be mad since all it had to do was turn around and it could find exactly three other windows open to the world and be on its way. Nevertheless, the fly continued to perform this maddening routine.
I turned my attention away from that fly to focus on the growing doom I could sense was closing in. Madness, however, once enters the home is not one to be put off or ignored. Just then the fly seemingly began to grow stronger as it hurled its body harder and faster at every subsequent approach. The sound of his repeated kamikaze flight increases its tempo and unknowingly takes on the role of conductor in my own personal chaotic orchestra. Every chink I hear against the glass now directs the orchestra of my paranoia and feeding my new acquaintance, the madness.
Now I stand here trembling in an unseen terror, tuned into the performance playing out upon the kitchen window, sensing the coming crescendo when I hear the voice of madness whisper and sing to me. “Oh, how sweet, how sweet, the melody, would be….and end to that pounding agony, if only you would throw yourself against the pane, I’m certain you would never wake in fear again.”