World

In a sudden rush of adrenaline, he darted angrily toward the wardrobe which held but a single feather. Slamming his skull into the shelf, his pistol fired a loud shot. The bats on the ceiling screeched and flew off of the cliff overlooking an absolutely gargantuan rock structure shaped like a cello. In the sheer rage of the moment, he threw the wardrobe at the mass of bats. It burst into flames mid-flight, and as it plummeted, killed all but one of the bats. The sole-survivor watched in sadness as his entire family was cleanly wiped out by a single flaming wardrobe. It crashed into the cello-shaped structure and seeped into the rocks. The rocks had been stained with the blood of thousands of bats, causing the clocks within the rocks to emerge. Millions of clocks, each with its own unique design, oozed out, and coated the rock. Each was ticking, and then suddenly, one by one, they began popping off of the rock. A seemingly infinite amount of clocks then started to rise above the rock, floating miles above the planet's surface. They were glittering, spinning around, high above his head. The cacophony of ticking was somehow beautifully complimented by the constant rush of cars driving off of the cliff to land in a pile of corpses and rice paddies. Just as the final clock had reached the highest point like the others, the clocks began a slow descent. They fell, like gentle snowflakes, upon the rock that was now covered in roses. Watching the clocks descending, the roses grow, and the cars fall, he was on the verge of tears. It was so utterly gorgeous, he could not contain his tears. He started to weep, and swiftly lit up a cigarette. The smoke drifted away into the mass of clocks and circled around a particularly elegant clock with Roman numerals. The smoke effortlessly wafted high above his head, and as he looked into it, he saw the image of some cacti toppling over. He was so deeply disturbed and upset by this image that he ran as fast as he could to the nearest lighthouse. For miles he ran tirelessly, the image of the cacti constantly gnawing at his mind. It consumed the fibre of his being, his very soul, and the sound of a dissonant accordion seemed to play constantly in his mind. His eyes were red and his mouth frothing when he finally had reached the sacred lighthouse. He walked through its entrance, and the weight of the world seemed to drift off of him. Happier than anyone has ever been, he smiled gleefully as his entire body erupted into flames and collapsed.