The Soul's Poison

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I man on the path to self- destruction.

Submitted: August 15, 2012

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Submitted: August 15, 2012

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It wasn’t the first time I had come here, and it wouldn’t be the last. It was where you went when you longed to feel yourself decay, someone with a self-destructive nature, like mine, were attracted to a place like this. I always stood along the wall; a blanket of shadows covered me. I could see you, but you never paid the slightest bit of attention to me. I no longer mind, that was why I came, to forget you. To forget everything.

My number is called; the server has a bowl of the black, tar-like liquid in his hands. I become a brute as I snatch that which is my release from the man. His stare is one of displeasure; I care little for what he thinks as I down the goo. The whole world shifts to one of the different plains of existence, there is no death, disease, or famine here, this is where all of the peace from our world fled.

I wake outside, as I always do, the hole returns with my consciousness. It would be a few days before I could afford to return, I’d have to live here for now, empty. I have these visions sometimes, they aren’t memories, but I see them as clearly as I see everything that surrounds me at whatever point in time I’m living. I see a meadow, tall brown grass, weeds, I don’t know, but you’re there. Only it’s not you, or it is but you are several different people, three to be exact. I see the tall grass, there is no wind, and then I see you in one of your three forms, all of which I love, but I can’t speak. I am mute. On the goo I see no grass, I see no you.

You wake with a clear head after you use, there is no coming down, no pounding headache or knotted stomach, you are invincible. Or so you like to think. My legs feel stronger than they ever have before, well stronger than when I go without for a few weeks, so I walk to my apartment in no time. I have to go to work that evening, so I prepare.

My job is at a warehouse where I unload trucks, it’s hard to work after you use because you want to run, jump, and fight. Sitting on a forklift for hours is torture, I’d call in, but I need the money or else there will be no goo for me, so I endure.

At work my boss stares from her office, she is always giving me that same angry look. It makes you want to just walk in there and grab her by that filthy blue button-up shirt, and scream. Don’t make any words, just a sound, loud and in her face. But I just take it in all its sourness. I’m in too fine a mood to be bothered by such a thing. It bothers me. I see grass.

Hours that have dragged pass finally, so I head to the freedom outside. Even the city pollution smells better than that hell I work in. I inhale the cancerous air, delicious. I still retained a little of that high, just enough to make it home, then it was gone, and I was alone. My apartment was only three room; a bedroom, a bathroom, and then a larger room that was stuffed full of all the rooms you would normally find in a real house, kitchen, living room, dining room, you know the homely rooms.

My bedroom only contained a bed, no end tables, no dressers, just a bed. I sat at the foot of the bed, crossed legs on the floor, and thought. I’m not all here anymore, over time parts of me just cracked and fell off along the way. If I remembered where they laid I’d go retrieve them, glue them back on, but my memory was one of the things that vanished. The goo filled the absence of me; it was all I needed anymore. Your hair is chocolate now.

I try to recall the times before the goo, but there are none. Whoever resided in this body before left no sign that they ever existed, so I’d just fill in the blanks. Time rushed by, everything was a blur, everything but me. The sun rose as I sat on my floor, I wasn’t sure if I had any sleep or not, but it was almost time for work. I’d find out later. Your skin is darker.

After a change of shirt, I was ready for the day. Work drug as it always did, repeat process. That never ending stare for the office made my muscles twitch. It angered me as it always did. Eventually it was time to leave, I was out the door the moment the hand hit four.

The next few days followed this pattern, until it was time to feast upon the goo. After work I didn’t even waste time going home, it was straight to the den. I waited as I often had to, but once the bowl was in my hands I forgot it all. It seemed different this time, thicker. I thought I would choke on it, I didn’t. Once it was down I left this place, I was beyond all pain and all sorrow, but I wasn’t coming down. I can’t see you.

I awoke outside, but I felt ill. My head felt as if it had been split up, my stomach was in knots. I needed to vomit, but I couldn’t. This was the first time I had ever felt like this, normally the goo left me refreshed. But not this time. It was just a bad batch that’s all, I repeated to myself a thousand times. There was no grass.

I planned to return after work, if I could even make it to work, and find out what was wrong with the goo. The next few hours were the most unbearable I had ever endured. I made it to work, on time too. My boss and her husband, another manager, continued to glare at me from their office since I arrived.

The insects have me bound in place, their hands holding me here, their useless words rattle about in my head. I am gone. The one that once inhabited this body has fled. The shell, that was left, can’t hold together much longer, flakes of flesh sprinkle to the floor. I become a pile of dust, sweep me away, and let me be free. But the insects brush my remains into sacks to be saved, to torment.

In the sack my breaths grow short, I cough. It is stuffy in here, I long to stand at the edge of a forest, and to take in a lungful of the sweet, untainted air. Heaven. It’s the simple things I long for, the insects do everything in their power to keep me from them. With hands held up towards the sky, I beg to be released. Their venomous laughs cloud the space that surrounds me, I cup my hands firmly over my ears, but the vibrations filter through. I scream, but I am deaf. This is hell. Hell is not what you’d think it’s like, there is no fire, no brimstone. Hell is nothing, and I mean nothing. It is the absence of everything, nothing.

It is time to go home, well not yet, first the den then home. Their eyes follow me to the door. I wait now, not to be served but for answers. It became my turn to order; instead I questioned the last batch. I was assured that there was nothing wrong with the last bowl I ordered. They even made me up a fresh one as a sign of good faith. I accepted. What did your faces look like?

The goo in this bowl was a paste thicker than the last. It made me gag, but I choked it down. They whole room stared, mocking me. Junkie they called me, weak they said I was. True all their words were. The room took to spinning, I hit the floor.

It was still dark when I awoke; I was lying in that familiar ditch. All I wanted was to go home, so I tried to make it a reality. Everything was constantly shifting; I couldn’t find my way home, so I sat. The effects of the goo would fade, I told myself. But I was lying. I thought I saw something, someone.

I grew tired of waiting. I stood to walk home, but I was already at my front door. How did I get here? The question seemed unimportant, I just wanted rest. I stumbled to my room; my bed was nowhere to be seen. The room was empty. Maybe I moved it earlier that day, I thought to myself. To my knees I feel, the pains in my stomach soon raced to every inch of my body.

I needed to see you, so I pushed two fingers to the back of my throat. The goo shot from my mouth, and it poured like a waterfall almost without end. My eyes burned, I felt the acid eat away at my teeth, and knew that not all of the goo had been puked up. I need to find a doctor, I needed medical help. I needed you.

Darkness overcame me; once it lifted a new day had begun. It seemed the previous day had only been a bad dream, but was it. I closed my eyes, I was at work now. Something toxic now pumped through my veins, as the hours of the day passed I lost more and more control. Hopping off of my forklift I walked into the office, a scream echoed through the entire warehouse. Fear covered her face as I walked from the room, then I left the building with no intention of returning.

I found myself outside of the den after I wonder aimlessly for a few hours, or was it minutes. Time is time I guess. My urges got the better of me, I swung open the door, I was recognizes as ejected from the den. Something deep and evil took over now. I walked to the corner liquor store and purchase a bottle of grain alcohol. Mix that with a rag, the sleeve of my shirt, and you have a Molotov cocktail. My dark half was an arsonist apparently. The den burned, the flames rose as the building shrank.

It was ash now, just like my life. It was nothing but a bad memory, just like I nothing but a passing face. On my floor I sat, staring at the wall. All my thought power was focused on trying to remember what your faces looked like. You were short; no, you were almost my height. The most the returned the more the pains in my stomach grew, soon I was clutching my belly lend forward. You had brown eyes, blue eyes.

A knock at the door, I needed to answer my door. I couldn’t find any strength in my legs. Your hair was tied back, although it looked better when worn freely. I covered so space on all fours; however my house became much, much larger. It was an ocean, and I was a rowboat lost in it. After an endless struggle I find my feet, weak and shaking as they are. The knocker is persistent, as they continue to hammer at my door. You are beautiful.

I breakout in a fever, my stomach releases it’s contains, when I’m a few feet away from the door. I fall to my knees; it is right where I had just finished puking. The slime is warm against my hands and legs. That smile, it’s unbelievable. I place an open hand against the door, a trail of vomit followed it as it slid to the base of my door. The corners of my vision grew dark, this was the end. I attempted to smile, but I hadn’t the strength left.

The sun was warm against my skin; the earth smell the tall grass gave off was intoxicating. I marched on through it, a subtle breeze began. The grass waved, it looked like rolling waves on a deserted beach. I walked without a care in the world until I reached a break in the weeds. I saw you, all of you, standing in a line. I prayed my eyes wouldn’t burst from the glorious sight that is you, tears streamed from them instead. You greeted me in, not caring about all my flaws, all my mistakes. It was just me and you now, all of you. I finally had the strength to smile.


© Copyright 2017 Geoffory. All rights reserved.

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