It was dark in all senses of the word. Night had fallen outside, and the lights in my living room were dimmed to match. But by far the darkest part of my surroundings was inside of me. My mind had been like a black hole of vial twisted thoughts since about two months ago. It probably didn't help that I had taken to shooting heroin in my spare time, and spare time is one thing I always seemed to have nowadays. I sat there in my darkened living room hunched over my coffee table in a half crazed fetal position slowly and carefully opening the little cellophane baggie. I took the fine brown powder from the plastic warping and dumped it onto my table, spilling it out like a miniature desert landscape. I began to chop it down finely just to make sure all the chunks had been pulverized. After I was satisfied with my progress I got out the spoon. It was old, bent and burnt but had once been used for civilized things such as eating. But now I used it for more sinister, pleasurable things. I put the pleasure giving, life taking powder into the spoon with just a touch of water to help the process go a bit smoother. I struck the old Zippo I’d had for years underneath the spoon and let chemistry do the rest. As the concoction began to slowly cook down I readied the needle and cotton ball. Sticking the cotton ball precariously on the tip of the needle to filter out anything I didn't want swimming through my veins was something I always did. If your going to be a junkie at least be a proper one. Besides if I ran out of smack anytime soon I could just squeeze out whatever still remained in the dirty brown filter. The whole process of doing this got me almost as high as the drugs did. Once I felt ready I dipped the filtered end of the needle into the spoon swirling it around soaking up as much as I could. Then drawing back the plunger I could see the medicine fill up the neck of the dropper. I then took up my arm and searched for a suitable vein to shoot into. I always used the visible vein in my right arm because it was easy to find and hadn’t failed me yet. I drove the needle straight down searching for that pay off. I knew I hit it when the blood from my body started to trickle up the droppers neck forming blood red swirls that danced with the heroin in such a sexual way it almost aroused me. The way it looked always seemed to remind me of a rose for some reason. I began to slowly push the plunger down. I could feel that warm life giving mess begin to flow inside me. I took in as much as my body would let me, then it hit. My mind felt as though it began to shrink and spin away. My body felt heavy and care free. I could feel everything coming to pass. I could almost see centuries of people just like me wasting away slowly as victims of the flower Alexander the Great once hailed as a miracle. I could smell the shitty alley ways I would hang out in waiting to score. I could see the faces of the junkies I bought from. Twisted, old, decrepit and desperate. I felt their hands grabbing and clawing at me. I could smell them breathing on me heavy and on the verge of death. It made me feel sick and old. I thought about how I got here as the drugs did there work on me. It wasn’t that long ago this whole thing started up. I had always dabbled here and there with drugs since I was young. I had always chalked it up to being young and foolish, never thinking where I would end up. I just was never happy in my own head and had to have it altered to get by comfortably. I had tried a few different drugs over the years, but when I met heroin it was true love. It started out as a vacation or escape every now and then. Just something to relax with after a hard day, or to reward myself for making it through a day. But the vacation was always just too perfect and I hated it ending. I never meant it to get like this, but that doesn't bother me. I may not be doing what’s in my best interest but if I needed or wanted to change I could. I just don’t want to. As I lay there spinning in my own drug infused paradise my eyes began to feel heavy and started to close into sleep. I dozed off from drugs and into dreams. There I was. I could see myself. I was whole again. I was sitting in a park with her. We were together almost as one. We sat still with each other my hand running through her soft hair. The other hand caressed her pale flawless face. I could see into her eyes like I never had before. The blue of her eyes was so stunning it kept spinning in a clockwise motion like an ocean running through time. I was hypnotized by her beauty. The way her nose stood above her perfect rose colored lips. The way her lower lip protruded further than the top one in a sensual pout. The way her eyebrow could rise slightly when I said something strange or out of place. Her smiled made my insides turn upside down. I felt like I wanted to get up and dance as I leaned in to kiss her. My lips pressed against hers and I could taste her. She tasted sweet. It was as though for a moment in time all was right with the world. But as I drew back from her gentle face I looked upon her once again. This time when I looked into her once placid blue eyes they looked back tainted and old. The white around the iris was now bloodshot and dirty. Her face began to rapidly age like nothing I had seen before. Her perfect lips gave way to hideous cracked lines. Her nose that once sat beautifully on her face began to rot and fall away. Her hair turned from a red into a grey and began to detach its self from her scalp. I drew back in horror as I saw this and got up in a futile attempt to flee. The grass that we sat on began to move underneath me at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. The once perfectly green trees were now bent over and dead looking. I saw a children's jungle jim in the distance that was nothing but a heap of burned, rusted metal. I struggled to run but my feet would not respond to the signals my brain sent to them. I fell to the ground with a hard thud. She leaped on top of me, her decrepit hands pinning me to the ground. Her leathery face pressing closer and closer to mine. Just before her face met mine I sprang awake from my sleep. I jolted up sweaty and very awake from the nightmare. My face and body dripped of perspiration. I was short of breath and not too sure where I was. I looked around my dirty empty apartment and saw the needle, the spoon, and the empty liquor bottle and felt easy again. “A dream. Only a dream” I whispered to myself. I sat upright on the couch and wiped the sweat from my brow. I reached for my half empty pack of cigarettes that sat on the table next to the cellophane that the junk had come wrapped in. I put one of the cigarettes into my mouth and struck the Zippo. The flame from the lighter was the first light I had seen in some time and it blinded me a bit. I took my first drag off the cigarette and fell back into the couch. Releasing the smoke from my lungs toward the ceiling in a long stream that seemed as though it would never end. I let the cigarette dangle from my lips gently as I watched the tobacco at the end slowly burn and emit a sultry wisp smoke with each puff. Scratching my head I wondered what the dream meant. It seemed to come around almost anytime I nodded off. It never ceased to leave me alone. I thought back, behind my smoldering cigarette, to who the girl was. I closed my eyes and I could picture her face. Not torn and old like in the nightmare but still young, beautiful and full of life. Her hair falling over her blue eyes. A smile snuck across my face as I remembered her laugh and the things we would talk long into the night about. It seemed like a perfect love but just as everything else in life, it ends. Almost as quickly as it begins sometimes. I had met her years ago through mutual friends and we hit it off right away. Its funny how these things work sometimes. When your not looking or savagely searching for that certain someone, you find them. We spent so much time together that I felt that I had known her longer than I really had. We fit together like pieces of a puzzle. But all things must pass as they say. I looked at the clock and saw it was near three in the morning. I used my shirt sleeve to dry my sweating face and convinced myself another fix might be just what I needed. I looked at the filthy coffee table and found my tools. I cooked down my goods like I always did and reached for the syringe with my trembling hand. I drew the needle towards the spoon to suck up the soothing syrup that I was longing for. But as I did this I noticed something inside the glass syringe. The clear part of the dropper that lets you see inside so you can correlate your supposed proper “dose” had something inside of it. It looked like a little green ball about the size of my pinky nail. I scratched at the glass but the ball was inside the dropper, and it was growing. It grew in size faster and faster until the whole dropper was filled with this thing. It grew so large that the glass began to crack. I threw the thing across the room, it bounced off the wall and rolled in the corner not far from where I sat. I jumped up on the couch with my eyes fixated on the dropper and watched it break open into a hundred pieces across the floor as this mass began to transform from nearly microscopic and unassuming to something beyond my control. I could see it starting to form legs, arms and a hideous face. It was now about the size of a dinning room chair. As it still grew it began to form what looked like a terribly, horribly disfigured human being. Its arms, wide and strong hung at its unclothed sides. As it stood before me its powerful legs stamped and kicked at the ground menacingly. I looked up at its face that now hung snarling about three feet above me. Its hollow eyes that were so black that you could see your own reflection in them. Its jaw hung open wide and drooling so close I could smell its sour breath. As I trembled uncontrollably in fear before this monstrous being, it began to lose control and grabbed me up with its arms and held me before its gapping, open jaws. Its grip was so deathly tight no matter what I did I could not shake it loose. I tried my best to squirm out of its grip but it was all in vain. It had complete control over me. As I began to beg for my own life through my tears it bit into my shoulder. I screamed out in pain. Next it turned me upside down and mercilessly preyed upon my legs. I could hear the bones of my legs snapping and cracking in its mouth. The pain from having my bones and flesh torn to pieces was beyond anything I could imagine. The creature turned me right side up again and stared at my bloody, tear soaked face and I knew right then that I was about to be completely consumed by my addiction.
© Copyright 2016 Dylan Cruikshank. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Horror
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