Hangover

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
a man wakes up with a hangover to fing some odd things. Please leave some comments and feedback =)

Submitted: April 25, 2009

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Submitted: April 25, 2009

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I wake up with an unbearable headache that make me feel like my head will split open in mere seconds.
I must be having the worst hangover.
When I process my surroundings I’m laying on a mint green chair that smells like shit and is deteriorating away. When I move on it dust gets disturbed and goes all around me, making me sneeze. It looks like I’m in a dingy motel room with wall paper that’s from the 70s. It appears to have once been white and orange but that white is faded to a sick looking yellow and is peeling away, revealing the brown wood behind it. The ground is a shag carpet that’s purple, completely going against the white and orange walls. It looks like it has stains in it and I’m assuming they’re piss stains because I’ve just taken into account that the room smells horrible. There seems to be a line of coke or some drug on a short brown table next to me. I lean over and snort it, disturbing more dust and I have to hold in my sneeze, as to not sneeze out whatever I just snorted. I stumble throughout the room the walls seeming to get smaller and bigger. Wow, what did I just take? I stand still and try to think… ketamine that probably what it was. I begin to calm down and walk into a room that connects to the one I’m in. These walls are also white and a sick yellow looking- but wait… there red splattered on the walls, and it looks like blood. There’s a bed in the center of the room a-and on it is a beheaded body. It’s obviously a women because she’s been stripped of her shirt and her breast are bare. The skirt she’s wearing is ironically blood red and not greatly affected by the massive red puddles in the bed, weighing it down in certain areas. I then begin to notice that there is blood on me, more specifically my hands and forearms. I’m also holding a knife. I lean for support on the door frame and then begin to walk back into the room with the mint green chair and piss shag carpet. There something else I didn’t notice. On the little table with the ketamine is a head. The woman’s head. It must be on so short of post because it’s just sitting there staring at me, not falling, not moving. It has blond hair and blue eyes, probably a suburban teen now that I get a closer look at the head. Her cheeks are chubby and childlike, and her forehead isn’t that of an adult. There’s some more line s of the drug in front of the head so I lean forward and snort one, then a second one, then a third one. I sit back on the green chare and a cloud of dust stirs around me and sticks to the blood that’s covering her face.
I lean my head back and try to sleep.
 


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