The Chaos

_{Source - The Chaos, before it grew strong.}

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When he finally decided it was time to eliminate Chaos,already it was too late. The dust had formed a thick layer and the cockroaches walked quietly among the dusty boxes, fat and happy, because they finally had a quiet place to live.

Chaos, fortunately, lived in an unoccupied room in the small apartment, evolved from a few belongings that never left their boxes since the moving, books, magazines, some formal suits and old records. Over time, it acquired tools, more clothes and some disused appliances, all contained in yellowing boxes and plastic bags. The pile grew, big and strong in the small room.

Well fed and strong, Chaos confidently left the far corner of the door to invade, little by little, the whole room. Years passed from birth to the moment when the creator decided to kill his creation, legitimately afraid that one day the door could not contain its thrust, allowing with his inaction that Chaos would leave the room and conquer the rest of the apartment.

So, that Sunday he woke up early against his habits, had a strong breakfast and coffee, washed the dishes and prepared to murder Chaos. He dressed in old clothes, armed himself with insecticide, gloves, garbage bags and a mouth guard. He stopped for a moment in front of the door, overwhelmed by the task he was about to face, sighed and opened the door. They looked at each other in silence, Chaos and him, challenging each other with his gaze.

The cockroaches fled from the sudden light, ran to take refuge in the slits of Chaos where fear made them desperately pray to their gods. A step forward in the dark domains, columns of boxes piled up in precarious equilibrium, plastic bags with erratic contents, detached books, loose leaves yellowed by time and eaten by cockroaches welcomed him.

One more step was taken, the light from the door was not enough to illuminate the taken room, the window in the background barely let any light pass filtered by the dust that covered it. He turned on the switch to discover that the bulb was burnt. He would have to work with little light or reach the bottom to open the window, he decided for the second, thanking in advance for the breeze that would refresh the vicious air.

If he had been obese, he would never have been able to walk along the narrow free path from the door to the window. He placed himself sideways, carefully sliding himself into the piles of molten objects that had an organic, living appearance. He took a step further, his vision was reduced to a mass of unidentifiable objects only a few inches from his nose. A second step and his back grazed against a swaying, threatening pile. He gave another, his sight now accustomed to gloom, distinguished the phone charger that he searched so much but never found and wondered how it got there. He lifted his hand carefully and took the tip but as he tried to detach it, he felt a strange resistance so he left it in place.

He continued sliding through the twists and turns of Chaos, step by step, careful not to touch the piles hovering over his head. On the fourth step, at chest height and under many others, he discovered the long-lost collapsed box where he kept his painting materials, along with his collection of matchboxes. Another step was taken.

He was already halfway, to his right he could see, if he carefully turned the monitor of his old desk computer and under it, the tent he bought and never used. The heat overwhelmed him and the dusty air made it difficult to breathe, despite the mouthguard. He felt something on his shoulder, a cable separated from the Chaos and leaned on him. He shook it with disgust.

Another step and in front of him, Chaos seemed to move, expand in a slight rhythmic movement. The sweat burned in his eyes and attached the clothes to his skin, on his face he felt how dust and sweat merged to create an unpleasant mask of dirt. Another step advanced. His foot stumbled against something that was not there before. He fell, followed by a thousand objects that buried him alive. No one heard his screams, no one missed the neighbor.

Today Chaos reigns quiet in his apartment and the corridor leading to mine. I should clean it before it catches me, I know, but I'm afraid.