Kyoki

Her crumbling obsession to succeed drove her to madness. Laid bare were the things that she once knew. No more were the relationships she garnished. They were burned and tossed to the wayside.

Hours were spent pacing her soiled office. Muttering useless, meaningless words that no other ear would hear. Eternities seemed to pass as she’d stare out the window with wide, lost eyes.

She’d wrap herself in ten blankets claiming to be cold. The next moment she’d fling them off and strip down naked. Shouting at no one at how hot it seemed. Her robe the only thing she could stand to wear.

This mad being would choreograph a dance, then scream and bicker at imaginary students when they wouldn’t get the steps right. Her performances were always met with thunderous applause.

On the rare occasion that she’d leave the house; if you happened to walk by you’d see a woman gazing off at the distance. Entranced by some unseen thing that seemed to both astound and terrify her.

The roses she had planted years ago withered and sank to the indifferent soil below. There master had abandoned them to rot and it seemed that in order to spite her, they welcomed their deaths.

She’d stand in the middle of her living room as if posing for a great artist. If she moved, she insisted that the artist start over. Then, she’d forget why she was standing there and leave the room.

Maybe it was years or maybe it was hours. It made no difference to her. This shell her mind had created was all it could do to survive. Her obsessions broke her sanity. Madness had become safety.