The SightMature

This stuff was not like any acid I’d ever dropped before. I mean superficially it was but in another sense it felt like this wasn’t my brain being fucked with. This drug was taking the blinkers off my brain that had been there for as long as I had been alive. Instead of a trip my eyes were opened. And I looked at the old man and for the first time I felt I understood his true nature. This revelation nearly broke my sanity. I think I went mad for a little while gibbering on the brink of a torrential whirlpool aching to pull me in to its ghastly embrace. At the last moment when all seemed lost, when the old man as old as time itself looked at me with something I could have mistaken for sadness and the room swirled. When all the chaos exploded around me quietly something in me refused to break. Some part of me stronger than perhaps even I understood. After all I had a game to play.

‘I am Jack Crosby’ I scream                                        
‘And this is not how this ends’ I dug my nails into the table doing so in reality helped me in the mental hellhole I was enduring. I stopped slipping backwards. I remembered fully who I was good and bad. I remembered  being beat up on the first day of high school, I remembered the first time I got drunk, I remembered working hard for my degree and I remembered throwing it away, I remembered the many friends I used to have and most of all her. Death as a result of tonight would be acceptable. I’d do down fighting. But ending up a drooling wreck was not any part of my plan. And so this time I didn’t.

I must have sat at the table panting for five minutes. I was surely a pathetic figure. And for the first time in a long while I felt like a champion. I could takes on gods with the high I had right now. But then I turned to look at the old man and realised that might not be enough. The new perspective I gained allows me to see him in two states at once. There was the old decrepit shell in the mortal world, and the ever expanding behemoth corrupting all levels of reality on another.  ‘What are you’ I mutter more to myself than anyone else. He chuckles. ‘You could not comprehend it boy, just be look my people find you amoeba’s somewhat endearing’ He leans in close on the mortal plane I can smell rancid. Cabbage on the other level I smell Cosmological vortex’s from the infinite planes. I don’t know what the fuck Cosmological vortexes of the infinite plains are. I just know it is not a nice smell. Worse than rancid cabbage at any rate. He’s right next to my ear now ‘You just made me fifty pounds boy my now snapping at the first hurdle, for this I thank you, I look forward to seeing Mr Crosby again tomorrow night when the real fun begins’. Even such a benign statement feels like nails on my soul. I manage to splutter out thanks. It’s at that moment I collapse.

The End

2 comments about this exercise Feed