The Mezzo (standard:horror, 724 words)
Author: Joseph Michaels	Added: Jun 17 2006	Views/Reads: 10088/3	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A man driven mad by voices has insomnia on his last days. He thinks he'll be free from the voice but he wont be.

AY- the horrors of it all. 

I can not go on much longer. It haunts me to death and to where I can no
longer live. My mind has changed and my view towards life has changed 
with it haunting me to death. My  actions hasn't caused anything to 
change and now I feel that no one is going to help. I've gone mad 
writing this in my room with my mind diagnosed with insomnia only cured 
by death. I want it to go away. But it just won't. 

I had been sitting and relaxing in the theater. I came to watch an
Italian opera, something like Figaro or something. All I knew was it 
was in Italian and it was something I did not understand. The 
mezzosoprano or the singer between the soprano and contralto was 
dazzling. His voice was the most beautiful thing I've heard. It is 
something I will hear forever. 

It is the voice that is haunting me. 

His beautiful Italian singing and later sounded like broken German in
another song was the Holy Grail in my opinion. Kind of ironic though 
the voice which is marvelous is haunting me to death. There are 
permanent words thta he has implanted in my mind. As of right now as I 
am writing this he is singing something in Italian which I cannot 
understand. The words are as followed(which can or can't be the right 
words. I don't know): 

"Te stesso aiutare. Lei è il gonig morire" 

If that's the right way to say it then I've at least got a little brain
function in my head to figure foreign phrases. Not like I care anyway. 

What does that phrase mean? Beats me. But the problem is that it is
beating me. Literaly. It's beating down on my mind and causing drastic 
sleep problems. I only slept for 45 minutes tonight. From 2:00 a.m. to 
2:45 a.m. I had a dream that I had fell in a hole that I had been 
digging. The voices in my hole caused me to fall. As I recovered from 
my fall I looked up and saw nothing. Pitch black. As I was trying to 
make my way up I heard a struggling voice in which sounded like 
Italian. 

"Aiuto" 

Then I was in my bed and I woke up. I am  in a terrible sweat and was
uncomfortable. I am hungry or thirsty though. The voice had not 
vanished. And I am not getting used to it. I think I'm either going to 
just live my life has best as I can or just go the cowardly way and 
kill myself. But I must hear that voice again. 

The time is now 6:00 a.m. I have been trying to fall asleep for the last
 and a half hours but I have failed. So I got out of my bed and now I'm 
writing again. I want to go to the next performance but it is far. And 
right now my mind isn't set to travel far. I have started my bathtub. 
But I will not use this water to take a bath. I will exit this life 
with it. I am not afraid anymore. No longer can death drive me insane 
and cause me to fear pain. Living life right now is pain. And pain is 
only cured by death. I will not care to see what a doctor's diagnosis 
will help me with. I am happy with what I am doing. I want to die. If I 
die it will go away. I don't care what others think or whats gonna 
happen to others after I die. I care about me. I'm important to myself. 


As I said before, I am not afraid anymore. I want to die. 

Pitch black. He knows he is dead. He is not knowing what is going on. He
stumbles. He falls. Down. Down far into the hole. His hard landing 
caused the hole to cave in. He is conscious. He hears something. 
Whatever it is can't be bad since he is dead already. It is the song in 
English that the death voice was singing earlier. 

"Help yourself. You are going to die" 

He screamed. 

"Help" 

For eternity this voice is going to haunt him. Right next beside him in
the hole that he built using his mind.


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