Before long, his dirty unkempt face lit up under the blue-white light coming from the cold container. His eyes turned into small slits as he greedily analyzed the content of the marble-white freezer. The cold air released by the container didn't seem to bother him more than the fact he wasn't seeing anything drinkable.
His stomach grumbled loudly as he closed the door of the fridge with a kick from his dirty boots. The action left a greasy mark on the pristine material but Tim didn't seem to have any care for that.
"Fuck…" He cursed quietly as his face once again basked in the darkness of the night. His hazy vision focused on the numerous boxes and packages sitting all around the kitchen. His eyes lit up as intoxication motivated his motion once again, kicking a few of the nearby boxes to verify their content.
The satisfying clingy sound that was released by glass wasn't heard by Tim's ears from the boxes surrounding him. He repeated the action several time, in hope of hearing the sound of what he was looking for, as he turned the messy kitchen into an even more chaotic place.
At some point, his annoyance peaked and turned into anger as he smashed the insides of the bottles that didn't contain the beverage he was looking for. Tim ignored the numerous products and condiment that were stacked in those boxes, nearly destroying them in his quest for intoxication.
"Where is it?!" He screamed loudly, his emotions spiking as he readily grabbed one of the boxes and smashed it on a smooth counter that was used to prep ingredients.
His frustration peaked, he was only stopped from breaking everything when he suddenly noticed the source of his anger on top of one of the chairs that were aligned around a marble-textured table. Nearly jumping on the boxes, he contained himself as he knew he couldn't swallow the disappointment in case he was wrong.
Thankfully, yet sadly, the boxes he had noticed indeed contained what he had been looking for. Before long, he stepped out of the kitchen loaded like an ox. Once again, his stomach grumbled loudly as a sharp pain assaulted the flank of the drunkard named Tim.
He ignored the painful sensation as he sucked greedily on the cigarette that he had just lighted again. He walked shabbily through the same dusty corridor, passed through the hallway where the portrait was hanging. Soon, his loaded steps took him again to the quiet garden.
The muted sound of singing cicadas regained its full potency as the insect's sizzling buzzed inside Tim's ears. He walked a few steps on the dirty floor-tiles before sitting on a clean spot that separated the garden and the house. The sound of his breathing was added to the buzzing cicada, and before long, a popping sound reverberated through the quiet residence.
He lifted the bottle of unsealed wine to his lips, and greedily sucked on its content for a few breaths before coming to a stop. A loud cough spread through the garden with Tim nearly choking out, it was only when he cleared his throat a few time that the strange cough came to a stop.
A dry smile appeared on his lips, despite the acquisition and ingestion of what he had been looking for, he couldn't help but feel that it was far too lacking to dull his active mind. Tonight, in particular, his mind wasn't leaving in peace and was constantly bombarding him with negativity and painful memories.
The horrid sensation forced him to once again lift a bottle toward the moon. Before long, the first bottle he had opened was spilled down his stomach, and soon a second and a third went down his throat as he didn't manage to find that satisfying dullness he was looking for.
Despite taking in an ungodly amount of alcohol, tonight in particular, he wasn't managing to find the sweet sensation he was been looking for. It was as if tonight out of all the nights, alcohol had suddenly lost all of its strength. He found himself unchained by intoxicating liquor, specifically, the event that lead him to the current event came back in full strength.
His mind couldn't stop thinking. From the events that derailed him from the success of his professional life, to the end of his normal life, the start of his addiction, and overall the rest of his entire life were relived thoroughly as he was trying to dull his mind with even more alcohol.
The emotions flashing on his face were numerous and diverse, moving from sadness that caused excruciating pain to flash in his heart to joyous memories that made him look blissful. Then, the atmosphere surrounding would turn grim as black marks would draw themselves on his unkempt dirty face.
The moody atmosphere surrounding the drunkard turned even more vivid the more the night advanced throughout its natural course. In the middle of the mindful intoxication, he couldn't help but feel the need to play his instrument. Sadly, he could still remember clearly that he had just traded his instrument for a few gulps of harsh liquor.
He killed that thought down with another raise of the bottle. Red droplets spilling on his dirty beard and clothes, but the drunkard didn't mind at all as he kept going on with his delusional passion. However, deep down, he knew that none of his efforts would amount to anything positive.
Far from lying to himself, Tim was aware that his suicidal antics would end up taking his own life. Sadly, he didn't mind at all as he once again lifted the bottle high to dull down his mind and soul.
"What a pity…" He mumbled inside his beard. The sensation of wanting to play his instrument seemed to form a barrier around the drunkard's intoxication as the event of losing his instrument affected him more than he thought.
He could feel his fingers jump slightly, as if they were trying to fret melodies through the void. However, once again, he killed down that feeling with a few more gulps of wine. The satisfied and joyous smile flashed with even less frequency after every ingestion of the liquor, a strange cough began appearing as he even seemed to force himself with more vigor when it came to the way he drank.
By the time he started the last bottle he had found inside the messy kitchen, Tim's face had turned into a macabre and placid painting that hung on his face for the rest of the night. Only his eyes kept flashing with emotions and regret as he sighed and heaved hot exhalations after every gulp of his liquor. The moon kept moving down its path, accompanying the solitary drunkard through the entirety of the night.
The more the man named Tim had drunk, the more frequent that strange cough would reappear and turn the veins of the drunkard into tense steel strings. The amount of pain that would traverse his body whenever Tim would start coughing was far from being a joke as he could feel himself lose consciousness slightly every time the event would happen.
The strangeness and the amount of pain produced by the cough would force anyone sane to stop whatever they were doing. However Tim seemed to have fallen far too deep in self destructive alcoholism and continued his intoxicating purge without any care for his body or mind. Soon enough, every gulp he took with difficulty made him convulse and force him to lay on his back on the cold floor of the garden terrace.
Apart from the dry cough and pain grunts, the only other words that left his mouth were curses deformed by the tension and shivering his body was going through. Despite all of the above, Tim's eyes didn't show panic as a calm and serene glint could be found inside of the madness that colored them. Sometime, when the acute pain stopped he would start laughing quietly but in a manic tone before simply sighing calmly while sucking greedily on left over cigarette buds.
The atmosphere that surrounded the drunkard was akin to a shivering lamp in the dark. Every gush of wind dimmed the flame of the lamp and forced the dying flame to dance for its survival. Sadly, with every movement the flame did, its brilliance dimmed and consumed more fuel as it moved toward death. Currently, Tim's intoxication was turning him into a firefly that was going down an abyssal hole.
"Fuck." He managed to say between a cough that sounded more like a painful burp. His vision shook as he forced himself to stand back on his feet, the motion was done with difficulty but he nonetheless managed to stand back with the support of a table.
He tried recovering his breath for a few seconds before laying on the table next to him. He lighted a cigarette while gazing at the moon with mindless eyes, before long shook his left hand to check if there was still wine in the bottle he was clenching. The sound released by the splashing liquid calmed him as he quietly lifted the bottle to his lips.
Time passed, the night advanced and the atmosphere surrounding the drunkard smelled of putrid death. He stopped moving, and even nearly stopped blinking as the sole motion his body went through were to suck the smoke coming out of his cigarettes and to drink the warm wine he hugged with one arm. The singing cicada had since long disappeared from his surroundings as it seemed the night life of his garden had come to an end.
Tim didn't mind the silence, he could feel that the recurrent crisis were slowly coming to a stop. Sadly, at the same time, the sensations coming from his trunk and limb had disappeared slightly as he could feel his body temperature drop sharply. Despite that, he didn't move from his position nor did he listen to his grumbling stomach that was pleading to digest anything nutritive.
His lifeless eyes followed the movement of the moon, never leaving it for a split second. Those close to him fully knew that the moon had always been precious to him, the astral body had always reminded him his past, a tender and sweet past that left him fazed in the middle of intense reveries. Now he pitied his situation but never did anything to change it.
If he had the energy to laugh at himself, a self-deprecating smile would have probably appeared on his placid face. However, now he didn't have any strength left in his body as he even had trouble staying barely conscious. His state had deteriorate to the point where he wasn't even able to lift his hand toward the cigarette hanging between his lips, only his gaze still contained some sign of life in them but the lack of eye movement made it clear that the man's medical situation wasn't anything good.
Before long, what ought to happen finally came to fruition. The eyes that had been following the moon that hanged high on the ceiling of the starry sky canvas came to a stop. Wide open but completely motionless and without any signs of life in them. The cigarette hanging on his lips was still there, it too had slowly stopped burning and wasn't entirely consumed by the drunkard.
Contrary to his body, Tim's consciousness didn't come to a stop. Obsessed and depressed to the point of letting his own body and soul comes to an end through a severely self-destructive way of life, he strangely felt at peace the further his body turned colder like it was sealed in a thousand year old ice pool.
He kept gazing at the moon through his death. By the time he stopped feeling the cold crystal structure of the table he had been laying on, the view of the moon turned grander in his vision as he found himself hovering in complete darkness.
His surrounding were twisting and warping, as if the fabric of space-time was being molded by a superior being that was capable of manipulating universal laws. The sensation coming from his body were strange, it was as if all the injuries and medical condition he had developed throughout his life had disappeared. Even the delusion of his mind seemed to have dimmed as he could think and feel his strange surrounding with crystal clarity.
The sole object that existed around him in the void was the grand astral body that quietly rotated in the vast expanse of the universe. The grand moon shine brightly, his vision blurred as he felt the soft light bask his strange, new, body.
Tim's consciousness relaxed, his mind attained a clarity and peacefulness he hadn't manage to feel for years and the comforting sensation made him feel sleepy. Basked by the moon, his soul liberated the tension he had accumulated through his life and by the time he realized anything his consciousness blanked. He fell asleep, a long and deep sleep that seemed to take an eternity yet at the same time seemed to happen in a single moment.
"Ughh" His mind reawakened as the sensation of his body changed once again. A tremendous weakness took hold of his being as he did his best to try moving and speaking, but it was to no avail as he could feel a tightly wrapped material surrounding him. Panic took over his body, he did his utmost to liberate himself as he felt a suffocating tension fill his body as a small heartbeat shook in his chest.
"Help me!" He tried screaming but all that left his throat were weird guttural sound that killed the silence of his surroundings.
A surprised grunt appeared in Tim's surrounding as the drunkard was racking his brain in trying to understand the situation. The feeling of sleeping for a long period of time was still lingering and his soul kept sensing that something strange and mystical had truly happened but he couldn't put his finger on what was going on. All he could remember was that he had been drinking before that sleep, and that the drinking session in question was truly bad.
"He… HE!" The same voice that reacted with surprise to the gibberish spoken by Tim exclaimed once again. Tim could feel the surprise and attention that existed the voice's tone.
"The young master is alive!" The voice shakily resounded once again. The surprise was coming from an old man, Tim could feel that the person was genuinely happy from the discovery and couldn't help but feel touched in his heart.
Just as he was basking in his own thoughts, the silky texture surrounding him loosened as soft rays of moonlight illuminate his surroundings. What entered his eyes made him nearly scream on top of his lung as a humongous face appeared in front of him, the titanic face that seemed to attain dozens of meter of height for Tim was attached to a humongous body and was the origin of the voice he had heard.
The clothes the man was wearing were strangely familiar for Tim as he had seen fabric like those in a few eastern festival, however he could say with one hundred percent affirmation that these clothes couldn't be found in his world.
He raised his hand in panic, trying to defend himself against the giant that had appeared way too close to his own-now- tiny face. The tiny arms and fists that entered his shaky visions forced him to gasp loudly from intense surprise. But once again, he only released a weird noise that made the giant's face beamed with a warm and blessed smile that calmed Tim's mind. Even without any feeling of having alcohol in his system, the drunkard Tim couldn't help but feel his vision blur with his eyes closing as he once again fell unconscious.