On Cravings & Mania

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Inspired by a dream.

Submitted: February 28, 2017

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Submitted: February 28, 2017

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My name is James. I don't know where I am but I do know that in an instant I had almost died.

It was last night when the moon peaked her bleak light into my windows, when the festivities began. It started as a party on the town. It became smaller and more intimate as the sun fell and the stars came out. The universe itself was out behind the clouds. I would hesistate to view myself as one of balanced mind.  The medicine was evidence of that.  

By the end of that night in particular, and beyond all odds I was with two others -- women. They were beautiful. As the ugly one I held my facade of confidence as best I could muster. Little did they know that it was as superficial as it gets. My mask were as thin as a Popsicle stick. Every day was a battle of regrets, but tonight was my reprieve from it all I thought. The liquor helped to steady my hand.

I first turned to one of the women that locked eyes with mine. I saw longing in hers as my disarming smile brightened the softness of her face. She made her move first and we tasted each other for the first time. But as quickly as the brief moment of desire began it had already ended. We shared our tongues and like the others, she too was repulsed by the taste of my lips. She turned her eyes away that dying flame of my eyes to lock hers with the other woman's. The two were eager without me. I was hurt and bitter but they were sweet on each other. My confidence took a free fall and before I knew it I was now the third wheel. They were truly, incredibly eager without me to keep them warm. I drank some more.

The circumstances were ugly, but I was alone in my misery. While the others had their fun, I retreated into my kitchen to pour another. That's all I remember. I didn't join in afterwards - I honestly can't remember for sure... It was late and I was drunk. I never stopped drinking. That's all I remember.

After my bad dream subsided I began to feel the bitter cold creep into my skin. I awoke at God knows what time to find the door open and the apartment empty. They were long gone without a trace, leaving little of their own belongings. But my home was trashed. They must have resented me to leave me this way. I was sober, but I ached. The pain was unbearable.

My mind had exploded in manic fears and overly elaborate explanations. Had I done wrong or was it the drink that ruined me. I began to think and think some more as I pondered my empty vodka bottle, now spilled over on my once clean floor when I was then invaded by another racing thought. Was there something else that made the others eager -- perhaps too eager, besides my hospitality and my drinks? I wondered what they were on and where they got it and if I should have ever trusted them. It couldn't be what I thought this was... Was I an accessory to something? I was afraid.

All of the pictures I owned and all the things I had worked so hard on was now scattered among the floor in a pile of frames and broken glass. There were belongings of mine and theirs hidden like horrible Easter eggs around my home like a cruel scavenger hunt. Some of it laid in pieces. Some of it I never found. I was being threatened. I just knew it. How could I have trusted them? How could I have been so stupid?

Fighting back my embarrassment, I left the house in the state of chaos and didn't look back or bring anything with me. I was alone traversing a frighteningly claustrophobic street, where the shops and the buildings and the walls to either side stretched so high that you'd never see the sun even if it was daytime. I thought I'd never see it again. I hoped I never would. No one could see my tears in the dark and in the mist and the sleet. All I knew was that the ledges were too high to climb.  All I could do is wish that I could be looking down a single step away from my own destruction.

It wasn't crowded but there were enough people to scare me. I could just barely see through my blood-shot, teary eyes the faces judging me as I past. I had to get out of here.

I bloodied my hands finding my escape in some kind of large ventilation shaft from one of the building interiors. It was an abandoned building. It was a dark complex of some kind. Dusty and forgotten boxes were piled to the ceiling; nobody would see me.

The shaft was claustrophobic and unkempt, but it was safe. From the way that it was erratically zig-zagging further and further down into parts unknown, you'd assume that no one had ever come this way.

It was not constructed to fit any obvious function, but it didn't matter to me. I did not even notice why it was it was so brightly lit or why it was so easy to see where I was looking. There were no lights and I was now farther below with no way to know where this shaft would take me. I saw marks on the floor that suggested that I was not the first person to come this way.

I wasn't scared though. I couldn't know for sure where it was going but I was certain that it wasn't Hell. It was neither too hot or too cold.

When I finally reached the end of my descent I was not surprised to find a wooden, sliding door. It was unsuspectingly humble, not unlike a kitchen cabinet from my own home, but hadn't seen repair in some time. Still, it was more inviting than the vent I had forced open to get here... I slid open the door.


© Copyright 2020 Sean P. All rights reserved.

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